


Hearts of Ice, Souls of Flame

by Bellexandra



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Bear with me it's my first fic ever, Debut Fic, Dragon Age Headcanons, F/M, Fire, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Ice, Love, Mages and Templars, Magic, Mates, Minor AU, Past Pain, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:37:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9655706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellexandra/pseuds/Bellexandra
Summary: First she found out she was a mage.  Then she found out there was a world that existed alongside her own.And then she fell into it.After an explosion at the Conclave, Althea Trevelyan finds herself in the world of Thedas, a world whose fate now rests entirely in her hands.  She also finds herself at odds with a man she has only ever heard of as the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall.  But they are going to discover just how much they have in common and how much they are going to need each other - not just to survive, but to live.





	1. Prologue: Memories

_The Trevelyan manor was always peaceful.  Especially during this time of day, when the sun was just setting over the horizon, casting rays of brilliant fire over the immaculately-manicured gardens._

_Althea was at her usual spot in the house, sitting on the floor in the west parlor and running her fingers over the pages of the storybook that was propped open in front of her.  She knew all the words by heart now, and she spent most of her time admiring the beautiful pictures.  One picture was of an elegant white swan taking flight over a forest, a hunter far below chasing after her.  Another showed a young maiden walking in a garden of roses._

_But perhaps her favorite was one of the last pages of the book, where the picture was of a man in a deep red coat dancing with a princess in a beautiful blue gown.  Althea smiled, imagining the entire ballroom around her.  Lords and ladies and courtiers, all in splendidly-colored garments, dancing to a sweeping waltz._

_Althea stood up from the floor, brushed off her purple dress, and put her arms out like the princess in the picture.  Humming a song her mother sometimes sang to her, she tried to dance.  She waltzed clumsily about the room for a while until suddenly, it seemed as though her feet just knew what to do.  A warm breeze ruffled her autumn-gold hair, making her toss her head back and laugh joyfully._

_She didn’t even notice the tiny firelights that had somehow materialized around her or the snowflakes that began to fall ever so gently, nor did she realize that there was a breeze in a room where the windows were shut._

_She just kept dancing, smiling, laughing, spinning, until –_

_"Althea!”_

_Mama stood in the doorway, her emerald-green eyes wide._

_Althea froze.  She followed her mother’s gaze around the room and saw the licks of flame in the air.  Then she looked at the fireplace itself._

_Where a man and woman made of flame were dancing, just like the picture in her book._

_Althea whirled back to her mother, her vision blurring with tears of terror. “Mama…” she hiccupped as she began to cry._

_Mama rushed to her and flung her arms around her. “Shh, it’s all right,” she soothed, running her hands through her five-year-old daughter’s hair._

_"Did I do that?” Althea asked._

_"Yes, Althea, you did,” Mama confirmed, which only made Althea cry harder._

_"I’m scared.”_

_Mama pulled back suddenly to look into her daughter’s eyes.  Her own expression was fierce. “Don’t be afraid, Althea,” she said, “don’t you dare be afraid.  Don’t you ever be afraid of who you are and what you can do.  Promise me that.”_

_Althea was taken aback by her mother’s shift in tone, but she still managed a response. “Y-yes, Mama.”_

_"Your life is about to change, my love,” Mama said softly. “But I promise you now that I will do everything I can to help you, and I will always be here for you, okay?”_

_Althea nodded as Mama planted a kiss on the top of her head._

_"How about a cup of tea?” she asked, offering her hand.  Althea wiped her nose on her sleeve as she nodded and placed her small hand in her mother’s larger, more elegant one._

_As they walked down the hall to the kitchen, Althea had one more question. “Mama?”_

_"Yes?”_

_"What am I?”_

_For the briefest of moments, it seemed like something flickered on her mother’s face before it disappeared._

_"Mama, what am I?” she asked again._

_M_ _ama looked down at her, fire sparking in her green eyes. “Althea Juliet Trevelyan, you’re a mage.  Just like your mother.”_

_\----------_

_"Miss Trevelyan!”_

_Althea tore her eyes up from her History of Magic textbook to see Rudin, one of the Circle’s pages, come bursting into the library, nearly smashing into the templars stationed by the doors.  Handfuls of apprentices turned to glare at him, and other handfuls glared at Althea.  The Bookkeeper frowned at Rudin’s volume but said nothing.  Althea sighed._

_From the moment her magic had manifested itself, Althea had come to learn that being the daughter of Lady Rosamund Trevelyan was a big deal.  Mother had promptly whisked her away to the Ostwick Circle, a school of magic where Lady Trevelyan was First Enchanter.  She had been terrified until she realized that she wasn’t the only one, that there were other people like her and special places that they could go._

_Since she was the First Enchanter’s daughter, all of the other mage apprentices gave her plenty of space.  But Althea knew they mocked her; she knew they called her “Princess” behind her back.  They either left her out of their activities, scoffed at her, or ignored her completely.  What they couldn’t ignore was the fact that she was an extraordinarily talented mage, well on her way to succeeding her mother as First Enchanter someday – a sentiment that, naturally, Lady Trevelyan shared with pride._

_It was lonely being Althea Trevelyan._

_That was why she spent so much time in the library.  Books didn’t laugh or scoff or mock.  And they certainly couldn’t ignore.  She loved that the world had so many stories to tell: stories of heroes and villains, stories filled with adventures._

_She came across a particularly beautiful passage in the book in front of her, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.  The world could be cruel; that she knew well.  Nevertheless, she sent up a small word of thanks to the Maker for creating a world capable of producing people with the ability to put words together in ways that could reach into your very soul._

_Rudin approached the table where Althea sat, giving a little bow. “Milady,” he said, a bit out of breath. “Your moth – ah, Lady Trevelyan requests your presence in her office immediately.”_

_"Did she give a reason?” Althea asked._

_Rudin lowered his voice so that no one else could hear. “Not exactly, but it’s important enough that the…” His eyes grew wide at his own words. “…the Divine is here.”_

_"The Divine?” Althea couldn’t help the surprise that snuck into her voice.  The Divine, the very head of the Chantry, here at the Ostwick Circle?  What on earth could bring Most Holy to a comparative backwater like Ostwick?_

_Althea tucked her books into her bag and stood up, taking a moment to stretch out her neck after reading.  She slung her bag gracefully over her shoulder and followed Rudin out of the library towards her mother’s office._

_***_

_Althea waited outside the door, listening to the voices of two women and waiting for a good moment to interrupt.  However, it had been ten minutes and there hadn’t been so much as a pause in their conversation.  They spoke low and hurriedly, and Althea stood as silently as possible, listening carefully._

_"I assume you have gotten word by now about the events of Kirkwall.”_

_"The Senior Enchanters have, yes, but we have not yet told the students.” Althea recognized her mother’s voice._

_"A Chantry blown up by a possessed apostate, the Right of Annulment invoked, a rebellion incited,” the second woman said, “and the mages and templars of Thedas ready to plunge into war.”_

_Thedas?  What was Thedas?_

_"A war of that magnitude in Thedas threatens the peace of this world, too,” the second woman continued. “You know this, Rosamund.”_

_"I do,” Mother confirmed. “So you have decided to call a Conclave?”_

_"Yes.  But first, let’s invite your daughter in.  I think her curiosity has been sufficiently piqued.”_

_Althea stepped back from the door just in time for it to swing open towards her, narrowly missing her foot.  She curtsied. “Mother.”_

_"Come in, Althea,” Mother said, “and close the door behind you.”_

_Althea obeyed.  For the first time she got a good look at the other woman, the Divine herself.  She was slightly shorted than her mother, and her face was distinctly aged.  But her silvery eyes maintained a mischievous, almost conspiratorial glint, as though she knew something about you already._

_"Althea Juliet Trevelyan,” the Divine said with a pleasant smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last.”_

_Althea curtsied low. “The pleasure is mine, Most Holy,” she replied, trying to hide the nervous shaking of her legs as she rose to find those silver eyes fixed on hers._

_The corners of the Divine’s mouth twisted up with amusement. “‘Most Holy,’ Rosamund?” she asked._

_"Althea,” Mother said slowly, “allow me to introduce you to your grandmother: Divine Justinia the Fifth.”_

_Althea blinked, but she couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “Grandmother?” she repeated._

_"Yes, I would appreciate it if you would call me that while we are in private, Althea,” the Divine said with a laugh, moving forward to embrace Althea.  She smelled faintly of lavender and sage._

_Althea looked back and forth from her mother to the Div – her grandmother. “I thought the Divine…the Divine can’t have a family?”_

_Grandmother chuckled. “The Divine cannot marry, no,” she said, “but there is nothing written against the Divine having a lover – the closest thing to a husband.”_

_It was Rosamund’s turn to laugh as Althea blushed at her Grandmother’s frankness. “You expected the Divine to be more discreet,” she said.  Then her voice grew serious. “In public, she is.  In times such as these, she is the best leader we could hope for.”_

_Althea found her voice again. “What do you mean, ‘times like these?’”_

_The two women exchanged a glance, then the Divine gestured to one of the chairs. “I think you’ll want to have a seat, Althea,” she said slowly._

_***_

_Neither of them spoke at first. “Would one of you please tell me what is going on?” she blurted, finally deciding that answers were more important than etiquette right now._

_"What did you hear while you were waiting outside?” Rosamund asked._

_Althea chose to answer honestly; something told her they didn’t care if she had been eavesdropping. “Kirkwall, an explosion set up by an apostate, a rebellion, and a war between mages and templars.  Oh!  And something about Thedas and a Conclave?” she said. “What is all of that?  What is Thedas?”_

_The women exchanged a look again, and the Divine gestured for Rosamund to explain.  She took a deep breath. “Thedas,” she began, “is…another world.”_

_"What do you mean?”_

_"It is a world that exists alongside this one,” Rosamund said, clearly taking great care with each word. “Haven’t you read books where worlds existed simultaneously, yet apart from each other?”_

_"Yes, but those were fairytales.  Made-up.  Fictional,” Althea said. “I just…I don’t understand.”_

_"Let me try,” the Divine said. “You said you had heard me mention the events of Kirkwall?” Althea nodded. “Thedas has Circles of Magi and the Templar Order, just like this world.  After the ruler of Kirkwall died, the Knight-Commander, Meredith, assumed control of the city.  She imposed harsher and harsher sanctions on mages, punishing them for the slightest infractions and making them Tranquil for breaking the smallest rules.”_

_Althea swallowed the lump in her throat as the Divine continued._

_"An apostate by the name of Anders caused an explosion in the Kirkwall Chantry, killing everyone inside, including the Grand Cleric.  Meredith then invoked the Right of Annulment, and war broke out in the streets between mages and templars.  It ended with most…” Her voice trailed off as her silver eyes clouded over. “…most of Kirkwall’s Circle dead, including the Grand Enchanter.”_

_"That’s…that’s horrible,” Althea said quietly.  She couldn’t even begin to imagine such violence and bloodshed._

_"In the end, Meredith’s knight-captain stood up to her, along with the templars who remained.  Meredith ended up petrified by her red lyrium sword, and Kirkwall is attempting to rebuild,” Rosamund said. “But as you can imagine, news of the events spread far beyond Kirkwall.  Circles have begun to rebel against what they see as the oppressive Templar Order, and a mage-templar war is upon Thedas.”_

_"It’s not your fault, Mother,” Rosamund said softly, laying a hand on her arm._

_"But it has been a long time coming, Rosamund, and you know it,” the Divine said, her voice rising ever so slightly.  She turned her attention back to Althea. “A war between mages and templars threatens the safety of both of our worlds.  When something of this magnitude happens, a Conclave is called, and leaders from both worlds come together to determine the best course of action.”_

_Althea nodded.  It was the first thing she had heard in the last ten minutes that did actually made sense. “So why did you call me here?”_

_Rosamund handed her an envelope, closed with the Divine’s Sunburst seal. “We want you to attend the Conclave as a representative of the Ostwick Circle.”_

_Althea’s sapphire eyes grew wide.  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “First you tell me the Divine is my grandmother.  Then there is a whole world that I have never heard about that exists alongside this one.  Now you want me to help you bring peace to_ both _of them?”_

_The Divine took a breath. “There aren’t many people in this world who know of the existence of Thedas, and likewise there aren’t many in Thedas who know about this world.  I’ve decided that it is best for the Conclave to be held here in our world, away from the worst of the mage-templar conflicts.”_

_"So people from a completely different world are going to be coming here?” Althea asked._

_"Not specifically here to Ostwick, no.  Althea, listen,” Rosamund said, fixing her gaze on her daughter.  Her eyes were intense, but there was a shred of sadness behind them. “You are likely to take my place here as First Enchanter someday, and it’s important that you know these things.”_

_"And you thought it best to keep all of this from me for this long,” Althea retorted, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into her voice. “Did you ever think I might not like that?  That I might say no?”_

_"You won’t say no.  You’re too much like me.” Rosamund smiled sadly. “And these secrets are kept for the safety of both worlds.  Being a First Enchanter means knowing these secrets and keeping them no matter what.  It means having knowledge of things beyond the grasp of most of your fellow mages.  It means…” She paused to think for a moment. “It means doing what is best for everyone, ensuring that the worlds remain at peace.”_

_"I know this is a lot to take in, Althea,” the Divine – Grandmother, Althea corrected herself again – interjected. “But I truly believe that you are the only person capable of what I am asking.”_

_Althea studied the elderly woman.  “And…what are you asking?”_

_"I’m only asking for you to come with me,” she replied._

_"For now,” Althea said.  She knew all too well how these simple requests soon turned into a mountain, and she was going to let her Grandmother, Divine or not, know it._

_The corners of Grandmother’s mouth twitched into a mischievous smile, the glint back in her silver eyes. “Yes,” she said simply. “For now.  Will you come?”_

_For once, it would be nice to have a choice.  But there was none for Althea; she knew that.  She was going to be First Enchanter, maybe even Grand Enchanter someday, and she would not fail them.  She couldn't._

_"I will.”_

_\----------_

_The spiders were gaining on her.  Althea scrambled up the slope, trying her best to avoid the sickly-green crystals that protruded from it.  There was no sign of Mother or Grandmother anywhere.  She was alone.  Completely and utterly alone.  She was wild, frantic, there had to be a way out of whatever this horrible place was –_

_"Grandmother?”_

_"A glowing silhouette suddenly appeared before her, taking the shape of the Divine. “Althea!” it called._

_"Help me!” Althea shouted, her voice desperate. “Grandmother, help!”_

_"Come clasp my hand,” the silhouette said. “But know that you are not done.”_

_Althea kept scrabbling her way up. “What do you mean?” she asked, gripping her Grandmother’s hand._

_"Keep your eyes wide, your mind free, and your young heart open.”_

_"You’re not making any sense!” Althea cried, tears streaming down her face. “Where are you sending me?”_

_Grandmother leaned in close. “Thedas.”_

_Then the world disappeared._

_\----------_

That was all that Althea could remember.  That was how she wound up on this stone floor with chains on her wrists, surrounded by people she didn’t know.  The Divine – no, _Grandmother_ was dead; that much she knew for sure.  She was awake, but she lacked the will to open her eyes.

Suddenly, a searing pain tore through her left hand.  Her eyes snapped open as she gasped in pain – and that was when she saw it.  A strange, glowing, green mark across her palm.  Okay, two things she knew: Grandmother was dead, and there was an unknown magic pulsing on her hand.

The third thing she knew, she realized with a pit of dread settling in her stomach, was that there was absolutely no going back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! You have managed to make it through the first chapter of my first-ever piece of fanfiction! This story formed in my head during my fourth playthrough of DAI and just wouldn't leave, so it's finally coming out in writing! I just want to clear up a couple of things before I continue:  
> \- I know I'm departing from canon (but I warned you in the tags that it was headcanon!); while there are some things I do actually look up from DA lore and history, my focus is on the inner lives of the characters involved ^_^  
> \- Althea's situation, the whole worlds-existing-alongside-each-other thing, I imagine as kind of like the way the wizarding world exists alongside the Muggle one.  
> \- Althea's name is pronounced All-THEE-uh, the "th" is soft, like the end of "Beth."  
> One last thing. I'm still a full-time student (but in my last semester of college!), so I can't make any promises as to when updates and new chapters will come along. Thank you again for reading! :)
> 
> ~Bellexandra


	2. A New Reality

Althea’s head snapped up to the door of the cell, which flew open with a metallic _clang_.  She watched as two women entered the room.  The first woman had short black hair, a circlet braid around her head.  A long scar was on her left cheek, and she looked every inch a warrior – especially with the pure malice that burned in her eyes.

“One reason,” she growled. “Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t _kill you now_.”

Well, this was new. “ _Kill_ me!?” Althea repeated in shock, looking around the cell wildly. “Why would you kill me?  What’s going on?  Where am I?”

“We need her, Cassandra,” the second woman spoke up finally, in an accent different from the other one, Cassandra.  Her face was partially obscured by a hood, but Althea could see short, auburn hair and a gaze not unlike a hawk’s.

“We may need her, Leliana, but we need justice, too,” Cassandra replied curtly.

“I do not dispute that,” Leliana said, “but I think we can agree that a hole in the sky is a more urgent matter.”

“Could someone _please_ tell me what on _earth_ is going on?” Althea exclaimed.

Cassandra’s eyes bore into hers. “There was an explosion at the Conclave.  The Divine is dead.  Everyone who attended is dead.” Her voice grew sharp again. “Except for you.”

The world shattered.

 _Everyone who attended is dead_ , she said.

That meant. . .

Althea collapsed back onto the stone floor, which seemed even colder now. “No. . .” she said softly, tears filling her eyes. “Mother. . .” Silent sobs wracked her body.  She bit her lip, trying to maintain her composure.

But the one called Leliana didn’t miss anything. “Your mother was there?” she asked quietly.  Althea nodded in response.  Leliana’s eyes grew distant, as though she was calculating something in her head.

“So, if I may ask,” Cassandra said, her voice still harsh but less than before, “who in the Maker’s name are you?”

 _I could lie_ , Althea thought. _If this really is Thedas, this could be my chance to_ –

Well, her chance to what?  It wasn’t like she could go back and change anything, especially since she didn’t remember anything that had happened.  No; the only way to figure out what it was she had lost was to be honest.  Thedas was real.  This was her new reality.  It wouldn’t do her any good to lie.  _Especially_ , she thought with a glance at these two rather intimidating women, _if they can help_.

“My – my name is Althea Trevelyan,” Althea said, “of the Ostwick Circle.”

“Trevelyan?” Leliana repeated, her eyes widening.  She turned back to Cassandra. “I haven’t heard that name in years.”

Cassandra shook her head in agreement. “I do not recall ever hearing of Ostwick.  And I have not heard ‘Trevelyan’ in years, either.  Not since Divine Justinia told us the story of her daugh –” She stopped abruptly, looking back to Althea.

Althea met their stares. “Divine Justinia is – was my grandmother,” she said, putting the pieces together for them aloud. “And as for Ostwick. . .”

“Yes, where _is_ it?” Leliana asked.

Althea looked back down at the mark on her hand. “Andrilea,” she replied.

The two women looked confused. “Where in Andraste’s name is _Andrilea_?” Leliana asked again.  Althea could see her brain working overtime, trying to figure it out.

“It’s. . . Andrilea is a. . . a world that exists alongside this one,” Althea finally said, instantly regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

Cassandra’s eyes blazed again.  She grabbed Althea’s left wrist and _yanked_ her up off of the floor.  Althea yelped in pain. “I am _not_ in the mood for jokes,” she hissed.

“Wait,” Leliana said thoughtfully. “She’s from a place we’ve never heard of.  She fell out of a hole in the sky.  And if her mother was Justinia’s daughter. . .”

“. . .Justinia would have kept her hidden,” Cassandra finished, releasing her grip on Althea’s wrist.

Leliana nodded.  The contemplation in her eyes quickly dissolved into all-business. “We can ask her questions later.  Right now, we need to get her to the Breach.”

“I will take her there,” Cassandra replied.  She started to unfasten the shackles on Althea’s wrists.

“Jim,” Leliana said to the guard just outside the door. “Get word to Commander Cullen that he will have assistance shortly.  Cassandra is bringing the prisoner.”

Commander Cullen?  Why did that name sound so familiar. . .

Althea stopped short as it hit her.

_Commander Cullen as in Knight-Captain Cullen.  Kirkwall._

She was going to come face-to-face with a man whose past was drenched with the blood of mages.  Now as to just _what_ she would do when she met him – she had no idea.  But she could feel the blood roaring in her ears.

Her head was still swimming as Cassandra grabbed her wrist again and pulled her out the door.

And into Thedas.

* * *

Through the eyes of his mabari helm, Cullen saw the demon heading straight for Ivan’s back.  He sprinted at it, sword raised, then brought it down with all his might into the creature’s skull.  The demon screeched before dissolving into green and black fragments.

Ivan looked up at him, eyes wide.  Ivan was one of the younger recruits, and this was his first real taste of battle.

 _What a first battle,_ Cullen thought bitterly. _Fighting demons that just pop out of a hole torn in the sky_.

“You saved my life, sir,” Ivan said, a little hoarsely. “Thank you.”

Cullen clapped a hand on his shoulder. “If you want to thank me, keep your eyes moving at all times.”

“Yes, sir.” Ivan gave a little salute, his fist over his heart, before running over to help two other soldiers take down another demon.

Maker’s breath, how did this _happen?_   He had seen the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes all the way from Haven, and it had ripped open the very heavens.  What on _earth_ could have done such a thing?  But this was the reality now, his military side reminded him.  And he would have to deal with it, one way or another.

“There!”

Cassandra’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.  He turned to see the Seeker running up the path, sword drawn.  With one slice, she severed a demon’s head from its body.  He chuckled.  Sometimes he forgot just how lethal she was.

Cassandra called over her shoulder. “Quick!  Over there!”  Cullen looked back at the path where she looked.  And up the hill into view ran a young woman.

 _The prisoner_ , Cullen realized.  Her armor was tattered and singed – likely from the explosion, he realized.  She was tall and slender, with hair the color of autumn gold that was coming loose from its braid.  Just as he began to think that she was rather striking, he saw the staff in her hand, and the realization hit him like a blow to the chest.

 _A mage_.

The prisoner, the one Jim had said was the only one to survive the Conclave, the one with the strange mark on her hand. . . She was a mage.

He watched as she snuck up on a rage demon from behind.  With a twirl of her staff, she encased the demon in ice.  Then, with another fluid motion of her arms, the demon exploded.  There were no more demons coming at the moment; it was quiet.

Cullen’s head pounded, a headache threatening to start.  He could _feel_ the power she wielded.  It was strong – the strongest he had felt in a long time.  But there was a musical quality to it, a kind of poetry and lyricism that was new to his senses.  He sheathed his sword and removed his helm, tucking it in one arm and rubbing his neck with his free hand.

Cassandra walked over to her. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s the last of them.”

The other woman nodded, breathing hard. “For now,” she replied, the smallest hint of bitterness in her voice.  He had never heard that kind of accent.

Then her eyes fell on Cullen.

They were a brilliant sapphire blue; he didn’t know eyes could even _be_ such a color.  As she looked at him, he saw a flurry of emotions flash through them – before they settled on malice.

He didn’t like her either, he decided.  The kind of rage that burned in her eyes wasn’t going anywhere.  And besides, he knew no more about her than she knew about him, yet she clearly hated him already.  He didn’t need _approval_ , especially if she was judging him on sight.  Well, he could do the same thing.  After all, why had _she_ survived when so many others had died?

Cassandra, ever-perceptive, looked between them.  She led the other woman forward towards him. “Lady Trevelyan, this is Commander Cullen, leader of our forces.  Commander, we are on our way to the Breach.  This is the woman who survived the blast.”

Cullen looked at this Lady Trevelyan. “I hope Jim was right about you,” he said. “We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.”

“Then that makes two of us,” Lady Trevelyan said levelly, her sapphire eyes boring into him. “I’ve lost a lot of people getting here, too.”

Before he could think about the ice in her voice, he heard a grunt of pain behind him.  He forced himself to turn away from this rather puzzling woman to see a soldier making his way to the next gate, limping heavily.  Cullen caught up to him quickly and put one of the soldier’s arms over his own shoulders, supporting the man’s weight.  As they made their way to the makeshift camp, he thought about what she had said and the hatred she didn’t bother disguising.  His blood boiled.  How _dare_ she judge him so quickly.  She had _no_ idea what he had been through, the things he had seen, the things he was _still_ seeing.

And her magic. . . that _power_ that had radiated off of her like rays of the sun. . .

With that kind of magical strength, she was dangerous.

But even though his back was turned, he could still feel her brilliant sapphire eyes on him.

And he couldn’t get them out of his head.

* * *

Althea had wavered a bit when she first laid her eyes on him.  He was clearly a warrior, from the way he moved and fought.  She felt the strength and force that she had expected to.  But when his eyes met hers, she had been taken aback.  They were a warm amber color, bright and relatively young – he couldn’t be much older than she was.  But for his age. . .

Behind the fire of battle in his eyes was a weariness, the weariness of someone who had been through far too much already.

She had almost felt bad for him when she reminded herself of Kirkwall, of the things he had almost certainly done.  And the wall of ice went right back up.

And what he had said to her – _we’ve lost a lot of people getting you here_ – was so unbelievably harsh that Althea had replied just as severely.

He had _no_ idea what she had been through.

But as he had walked away from her to support one of his men, she felt the amber fire of his eyes still burning in her soul.

And she did nothing to douse the flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a second chapter! Or in other words, me avoiding homework!  
> I debate with myself really hard over what to include and what not to. For example, I find myself staying away from big events and heading more to aftermath and reactions, but we'll see what happens. I know I for one am excited to see where this goes - because I have no idea! I've got some later scenes written, but of course, I have to write myself to those points.  
> Thanks for your patience and for your reading!  
> ~ Bellexandra


	3. The Inquisition

Colors.  That was what Althea saw as she slept.

Green, black, silver, purple, blue. . .

With each color came reminders of what had happened.

_Green.  The magic that fired from her left hand.  The rift into the Fade._

_The elf – Solas, that was his name – had been right; that the strange mark on her hand was somehow connected to the rifts and had the power to close them._

_Black and silver.  The pride demon._

_She had never seen such a creature before in her life.  It was huge and heavily armored, with a deep, triumphant laugh that had echoed through her bones._

_Purple.  The demon’s power._

_She had been struck dumb by the sheer amount of electricity it was able to produce.  And then the whips, the ropes of raw energy that it wielded.  She had chosen to stay on the perimeter of the battle, firing at the demon while waiting for the next chance to weaken the Breach._

_Blue.  Her magic had always been tinged with a blue color.  It wasn’t because of an affinity for a certain element; it had been that way for as long as she could remember.  Even her fire attacks could burn with a bluish tint –_

Out of nowhere, a new color appeared.

A golden amber.

Her fire could burn that color, but this wasn’t her magic, this color felt more like a person. . .

 * * *

Althea’s eyes fluttered open.  She was lying on a soft, rustic bed in a wooden cabin.  Rolling over onto her left side, she saw a fire burning in a stone hearth, a desk with papers scattered on its surface, and a sparsely-stocked bookshelf.  _I need to stop waking up in new places_ , she thought bitterly, just as the door to the cabin opened, and an elven woman came in with a tray.

“Excuse me –” Althea began.  The elf jumped and promptly dropped the tray she had been carrying.

“Begging your pardon, milady!”  the elf exclaimed, curtsying low. “I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”

“Please, calm down,” Althea said, trying to soothe the frightened woman. “I just woke up a minute ago.”

“Yes, milady,” she replied. 

“How long have I been asleep?” _This time_ , Althea added silently.

“Three days,” the elf said. “They brought you back here after you closed the Breach in the sky, milady.” She started to back towards the door. “I’m so sorry, Seeker Pentaghast told me to tell her right away as soon as you woke up.  Right away, she said!  And you’re to meet her at the Chantry.”

The woman’s clear fright unsettled Althea. “I will be there at once,” Althea replied slowly.

“Yes.  Very good, Your Worship.”

Althea blinked.  _Your Worship?_

But before she could ask any more questions, the elven woman was out the door, leaving it open behind her.  Cold air rushed into the cabin, making the fire dance in the hearth.  Althea looked outside.  A soft morning light bathed the snow in a light orange, and snowflakes blew through the air.

So where was she?  Somewhere cold and snowy.  And that was really all she knew.

She sighed, pushing herself off the bed, standing, and making her way to the open door.

 ----------

Cullen had stationed two templars outside Lady Trevelyan’s cabin.  A mage with that kind of power couldn’t go unmonitored.

And _Maker_ , what power.

While they were fighting the pride demon, he had to remind himself to keep his eyes constantly moving instead of watching her.  Her eyes – _those sapphire eyes_ – darted around the ruins of the courtyard, looking for an opening to strike but staying on the perimeter of the battle.  She moved with a nearly feline agility, with the grace of a trained dancer, wielding her magic with an ease that he had not seen in years.

And Cullen hated her for it.

He hated how easy it was for her.  He hated how strong her magic was, how powerful she was.  How much more powerful she _could_ become.

But most of all, he grudgingly admitted to himself, he hated the way her magic _sang_ to his senses.  It seemed to reach out to him specifically, calling him and curling around him, filling the battlefield (or maybe just the area around him) with something so uniquely _her_.

Now he was pacing around the large wooden table in their makeshift war room, waiting for Cassandra.  One of the elven servants had come running in a few minutes ago, saying that the “Herald,” as the people were starting to call her, had awoken.  He agreed with Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine about the best course of action to take.  They had unanimously wanted to have Lady Trevelyan involved with their decisions, since she alone had the ability to close the rifts, and Cullen had agreed, too, though with a more uncertain tone.

He had asked Leliana if she knew anything about this Lady Trevelyan, but Leliana had brushed him off. “I know. . .some things,” she had affirmed, “but some knowledge is best kept secret.  And other secrets are not mine to reveal.”

Well, that had irritated him, but it had only served to pique his curiosity.  There was something that the women weren’t telling him, but for now, they had decided that their lips were sealed.

At that very moment, his thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.  Cassandra strode in, Lady Trevelyan right next to her.  Lady Trevelyan said something, and he actually saw a slight smile light up the Seeker’s face.  The two women approached the table.

The moment Lady Trevelyan’s gaze fell on him, her smile vanished.  He could have sworn the room got colder.

 ----------

Althea had stepped out of her cabin to whispers and furtive glances her way.  As she made her way to the Chantry, some people bowed or curtsied, and others touched their right fist to their hearts in a kind of salute.  They all addressed her as “Herald” or “Lady Herald” or “Your Worship,” as the elven woman had.  Just as her stomach began to wrap itself in knots, she had seen Cassandra waiting just outside the Chantry doors.

“Herald,” Cassandra had said with a look telling Althea to stay quiet, before ushering her inside.

“Would you care to explain to me why everyone is calling me ‘Herald’ or ‘Your Worship’ or whatever else it is they think I am?” Althea had asked once the doors were closed.

“They claim to have seen another woman with you when you fell from the Breach,” Cassandra had replied. “And they believe it was Andraste, thus making you the Herald of Andraste.”

“ _What?_ ” Althea exclaimed, her eyes wide.  She had only landed in this world days ago, and now people believed she was the chosen herald of a _deity!?_

Cassandra only nodded pensively. “Did she save you?” she asked after a moment.

Althea’s expression grew distant. “I wish I could remember,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “My time spent in whatever exists between Andrilea and Thedas is a bit. . .hazy.”

“Perhaps those memories are somewhere here in Thedas?”

Althea smiled. “Perhaps.”

There was another silence. “Does it hurt?”

“What?”

Cassandra gestured to Althea’s left hand. “The mark.”

“No worse than waking up in a new world on a stone floor in a cold dungeon with irons around your wrists,” she said jokingly, hoping to ease some of the tension of the whole situation.

To Althea’s surprise, the corners of Cassandra’s lips twitched upward in amusement. “I do apologize for that,” she said, her voice sincere. “It has been a. . .difficult few days.”

For the first time, Althea saw a crack in the woman’s hard veneer. “I understand,” she said softly.

Appreciation flickered to life in Cassandra’s eyes. “But now we have to move forward.  There is a hole in the sky that must be dealt with, and a person behind the explosion at the Conclave to bring to justice.”

Her meaning was not lost on Althea. “So you. . .you believe me, then?”

“I believe you are innocent, yes,” Cassandra replied firmly.  They had arrived at another set of doors. “And now we must close the Breach and find those responsible.”

“We?”

“It is only right that you be involved.  The others agree.”

Althea felt dumb for her continual questions, but all she could find to say was, “Others?”

Cassandra pushed open one of the doors and ushered her into a candlelit room.  A large wooden table was in the center of the room, a map and various markers arrayed on top of it.

Standing around the table were three other people.  She recognized the hooded woman as Leliana.  There was another woman, one with black hair and warm, dark eyes, wearing a rather lavish-looking tunic of gold and purple; she appeared much more elegant than the others.

And then, her eyes fell on warm amber.

She felt the ice surge through her veins when she met the Commander’s gaze.

 * * *

Cassandra spoke again. “You have met Leliana already, of course.”

Leliana smiled, her eyes still lit in that way that meant she was calculating everything at all times. “Nice to see you again – and out of irons.”  Althea smiled back.

Cassandra gestured to the woman in gold and purple. “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet of Antiva, our Ambassador.”

Lady Josephine gave a little curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you at last,” she said with a warm smile, a different accent to her voice than the others.

Which meant there was one person left.

Althea forced herself to meet the Commander’s gaze.  To her surprise, his eyes were entirely unreadable, his face a carefully-constructed mask that she could not see behind this time.

Cassandra looked back and forth between Althea and Cullen. “And Commander Cullen you have also met already.”

“It was briefly during the fight with the rage demon,” the Commander said. “But I am pleased to see you up and about.”

There was something like sincerity in his voice, which surprised Althea as well, but she was no fool.  She _had_ noticed the guards outside her cabin, after all. “I should thank you for stationing those templars outside of my hut,” she remarked, fighting the tiny flame of anger that sparked inside her.  She channeled the fire into her eyes, not taking them away from his. “I was beginning to feel homesick.” _Althea: 1, Commander: 0_ , she thought to herself smugly.

That mask cracked, and the Commander blinked. “Ah – yes,” he stammered, quickly regaining his composure.  A thought occurred to him, and Althea saw an echoing intensity rise in his amber eyes. “Where is home, Lady Trevelyan?” he asked, not bothering to hide the curiosity in his voice.

Althea’s eyes narrowed.  _Althea: 1, Commander: 1._

She wasn’t ready to tell him anything, but he certainly didn’t need to know.  Leliana and Cassandra might be digging into her history already, but she did _not_ want _him_ poking around in the shadows of her past.

Before she could reply, there was a _thump_ on the table.  She turned to see a large, leather-bound book lying there, a stylized eye on the cover.  She looked up at Cassandra, whose eyes were now serious and somber as they looked around at everyone.

“Before the Conclave, the Divine gave this to Leliana and me,” Cassandra said, “in case anything went – wrong.” She glanced briefly at Althea.

“What _is_ it?” Althea asked.

“A writ from Justinia,” Leliana replied. “It gives us the power to act, to find those responsible for the chaos that the explosion and now the Breach are causing all over Thedas.” Her eyes grew steely, but a shred of lingering grief did not escape Althea’s notice.

Cassandra took over again. “So we are all in agreement?”

Leliana, Josephine, and the Commander all murmured affirmatively before looking at Althea.

Althea found herself nodding in agreement as well.  She couldn’t deny that it felt good to be included, but her heart still pounded anxiously.  _What is it we’re agreeing on?_  

“Then from this moment,” Cassandra declared, “I declare the Inquisition officially reborn.”

 * * *

Only minutes later, as Althea was walking back to her cabin, she saw ravens flying from the Chantry bell tower.  They were carrying news of the Inquisition’s establishment to Leliana’s field agents.  Josephine had begun a similar task, sending messages to various foreign leaders of countries whose names Althea had never heard before.

She heard a pounding, and turned to see Commander Cullen nailing the proclamation on the exterior doors of the Chantry for the people of Haven to see.  As if he sensed her presence, he turned his head, those infuriating golden-amber eyes falling on her.  And something like _sympathy_ flashed across his gaze before that unreadable mask went back up as he made his way back down to the training area.

Althea looked back at the parchment now hanging from the Chantry doors.  It was only paper, fluttering whenever the wind kicked up.  Yet she could just _feel_ the weight of what it said and what it implied, even though the ink was barely dry.

Althea swallowed a hard lump in her throat.  Whatever had just happened in that Chantry room, it was big.  Something was beginning, something that was going to shake the future of this world.

And here she was, now directly involved with it, now dubbed the “Herald of Andraste” by the people.

_Grandmother, what have you gotten me into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a new chapter! I'm still discovering my style and deciding what all I want to cover, so again, thank you for sticking with me!  
> This has also reached over 100 hits already, so I'm pretty excited! Thank you, lovely readers! :)
> 
> ~ Bellexandra


	4. A Last Gift from Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had my last mid-term today so surprise, two chapters in a row!

Althea sat on her bed in her cabin, the fourth volume of _Thedan History_ perched on her lap.  She had been in Thedas for a month and a half now, and she actually felt more productive than she ever had in the entirety of her life in Andrilea.  Cassandra had accompanied her to a place called the Hinterlands, along with the elf from before, Solas, and a dwarf named Varric.  Solas was very patient with a lot of her questions about magic, and he seemed to enjoy explaining his theories and describe the things he learned in the Fade.  Varric, on the other hand, was loud, witty, and full of wild stories – both ones he had experienced and ones that he made up, being one of the most celebrated authors in Thedas.

It was at the Hinterlands where Althea saw firsthand the devastation of the mage-templar war.  They had rescued a group of refugees from hostile templars before making their way to the refugee camp.  They had killed the templars, and the first thing Cassandra asked after the fight was over was if Althea was okay.  As though it had been the first time she had killed another person.

Althea had merely nodded.

She _had_ , in fact, killed people before.

But that secret was going to _stay_ secret for as long as Althea could help it.  She had spent a long time building a wall over that particular door to her past, and she could not make any promises as to what would happen if it were to be opened.

The refugee camp was running low on supplies, so the four of them had run around the area near the camp, gathering healing herbs and killing bears for their pelts.  While it left Althea sore, she discovered that she loved being outside, running free with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair.  When they had stumbled across a small waterfall near Lake Luthias, she set up her tent in the nearby camp at the spot closest to the sound of the softly-rushing water.

She finally realized what the feeling was on their ride back to Haven.

 _Freedom_.

And now she was right back to her books.  Leliana had helpfully given her the comprehensive set of the volumes of the _Thedan History_ collection.  If she was going to be a part of this world and this Inquisition, she figured she needed to learn as much as she could.

There was a soft knock at her door.

“Come in!” Althea called, rapidly scanning through the Hero of Ferelden’s decision to rule by Alistair’s side as his queen.  She made a mental note to read it in further detail later; she found their story incredibly romantic.

She tore her eyes up from the page to see Cassandra enter the cabin. “Good evening, Lady Trevelyan.”

Althea gave her a small smile in return. “What can I do for you, Cassandra?”

“Actually, I’ve come to do something for you this time,” she said.  It was then that Althea saw the small messenger bag that Cassandra carried. “I believe this belongs to you, does it not?”

Althea put her marker in the book and set it down.  It was the bag she had taken with her to the Conclave – which meant that she had had it with her when she fell into Thedas. . . “Where did you find this?” she asked, immediately embarrassed. “Oh, so you took it when you –”

“– when we found you, yes,” Cassandra finished, overlapping with Althea.  And was that – a bit of a flustered blush beginning to color the Seeker’s cheeks?

Cassandra cleared her throat with an awkward _ahem_ and held the bag out to her.  Althea looked at her eyes and glimpsed a lingering bit of embarrassment, which meant there was something the Seeker wasn’t telling her. . .

“I assume you went through it?” Althea asked bluntly, taking the bag.  Cassandra looked like she was about to apologize, but Althea continued. “Please, don’t apologize.  I fell out of a hole in the sky from a whole other world.  I’d be more concerned if you hadn’t!”

A bit of tension eased from Cassandra’s shoulders. “Your understanding is appreciated,” she said.  Then some curiosity rose to her face. “If I may be so bold. . .”

“Yes?”

“What are the books that were in there?”

Althea pulled out the books in question.  There was a tug at her heart at the sight of them.  She picked up the smallest one, a purple and silver-bound notebook. “This one I use – or use _d_ – whenever I was reading.  When I came across a line or passage that I found particularly beautiful or profound or inspiring, I would write it in here.” She flipped through the pages idly, her own handwriting looking back at her.

“That is a rather excellent idea,” Cassandra observed thoughtfully. “Perhaps I shall begin to do the same with my books.” Althea smiled, picking up the largest book next: a brown leather volume. “What is that one?”

Althea sighed wistfully. “A collection of works by William Shakespeare.  Plays and sonnets.” She ran a finger lightly over the cover.

“Who?”

The question shook Althea out of her reverie. “What?” Althea asked, surprised. “Oh, of course.  He is a well-known writer back in Andrilea.  Dead for centuries, but his works have withstood the test of time simply because they are so. . .well, I don’t really have the words for him,” she said. “Forgive me, Shakespeare is very close to my heart.”

Cassandra smiled.  Actually _smiled_. “I have books that affect me similarly.  I understand.” She pointed back at the bag. “What is the third one?”

Althea was confused as she reached back into the bag.  _Third?  But I thought. . ._ “I only packed those two –” She stopped as her hand did indeed hit another book.

_Maker, I could have sworn I only put those two in there._

Althea pulled out a thin, deep-red volume that was accented with gold.  The edges of the pages themselves were also edged in gold.  It was easily the most beautiful book she had ever seen.

And there, imprinted on the front in elegant script, was a title.

 _Romeo & Juliet_.

Althea’s favorite.

It was a beautiful edition.  But why was it in her bag?

 _Who had put it there?_ she wondered. _It could only have been Mother or Grandmother._

“What is it?” Cassandra asked again, more gently this time.

“My favorite Shakespeare play, _Romeo and Juliet_ ,” Althea answered. “But I didn’t pack it.  This is the first I’ve seen of it.”

“Perhaps it was meant to be a gift from the Divine or from Lady Rosamund?” Cassandra suggested.

Althea nodded absently. “That’s all it could possibly be.”

After an uncertain pause, Cassandra spoke again. “Well, I must be going.  Josephine should have updates on where we stand with the templars and mages soon.” She made her way back to the door of the cabin, towards the last rays of the sunset.

“Yes, she probably will,” Althea agreed. “Oh, Cassandra?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

The Seeker smiled again, and with a short nod, she was out the door, closing it behind her.

Leaving Althea alone with the mystery book.

She plopped back down on her bed and opened the front cover –

To find a short note in her mother’s elegant handwriting.

 * * *

_My dearest Althea,_

_I hope you will find this little gift before your meeting.  I found it at a market stall and, since your middle name comes from this piece, it seemed fitting._

_I am so proud of you, Althea.  I am proud of the woman you are becoming.  But you are the only one with the ability to have an active say in just who that woman might be.  If you somehow wind up in Thedas, you will not be alone.  There are people there capable of helping you and loving you, if you only keep your eyes wide, your mind free, and your heart open._

_All my love,_

_Mother_

_P.S. The Bard holds the key, as he always has._

 * * *

Tears blurred Althea’s vision.  She willed them back; she refused to cry.  Besides, all this little note had done was raise more questions.  Mother had believed that Althea going to Thedas was a possibility at the Conclave.  And there were the same words Grandmother said when she had led Althea from the Fade: “ _Keep your eyes wide, your mind free, and your heart open.”_   What was it they were trying to tell her.

And that post-script.  _The Bard holds the key, as he always has_.

A riddle.  A puzzle.  A clue.

But to what?

“ _Uuuuuuugh,_ ” Althea groaned, flopping onto her back on the bed.

There was something bigger than the Inquisition going on, something that Althea apparently would have to discover herself.

She rolled onto her side and stared at the fire until she fell asleep, dreaming of a man and woman dancing together, made of fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could this mean for Althea? A clue as to who she is? Where her extraordinary ability of perception came from? Guess you'll have to wait and see!  
> As always, thanks for your reading, kudos, and comments!  
> ~ Bellexandra


	5. The Lady of the Lake

Cullen turned over the last page, setting it onto the rest of the pile of parchment.  He rubbed the back of his neck wearily.  It had taken him a couple of hours to read through Cassandra’s report from the Hinterlands expedition.  They had managed to establish a number of small camps, which would make it easier for later travels to the area.  The mage-templar fighting was extensive, as he had expected.  He had seethed when he read about templars attacking refugees if they even suspected them of being mages.  This was not the Order he knew when he was younger, the Order he had admired for its morals and ideals.

Those all seemed to be gone.  Vanished, like the early morning mist over the frozen lake.

When Cassandra had approached him in Kirkwall after things had somewhat calmed down, she surely knew exactly what he was doing – or rather, _not_ doing – and had told him it was commendable.  Commendable to free oneself of a belonging to a group that turned against the very principles on which it was founded.  Commendable to want to move on.  Commendable to break the leash of lyrium chaining him to his old life.

And commendable to seek redemption for both the things he had done and the things he had stood by and let happen.

Those besides Cassandra who knew what he was enduring shared her feeling.  And those who didn’t know still seemed to give him a certain amount of respect.

Except for one.

Lady Althea Trevelyan was still a mystery to him.  He only saw her at Inquisition council meetings or in the tavern for meals, usually with Cassandra or Varric.  The rest of the time, she remained in her cabin.  Cullen still kept one templar guard nearby, just in case that strange mark on her hand acted up.  If she had noticed, she hadn’t said anything.

She wasn’t directly hostile towards him, but she saw fit to challenge him from time to time during council meetings.  Perhaps she was just looking for a fight; that was certainly how her eyes appeared to him.

Cullen sighed in exasperation.  _Those gods-damned sapphire eyes_.

She was always looking at people, studying them and sometimes seeming to know them better than they knew themselves.  But every time they looked at him, they seemed to either burn with fire or to frost over with a layer of ice.  And there was always some frustration behind them.

A part of him wanted to avoid her and her eyes at all costs.

But, he grudgingly admitted to himself, another part of him was curious. 

Leliana and Cassandra dodged any questions he asked.  He had gone to Varric one evening on the off chance that Lady Trevelyan had spoken to him of her past, but Varric replied that she hadn’t. “You can tell she’s been through hell just by looking at her,” he had said, a mischievous glint to his eye, “which means she’s got one hell of a story to tell.”

The more Cullen thought about it, the more he saw the dwarf’s point – which, Maker damn it, only made him more curious.  But apparently, the only person who could give him answers was Lady Trevelyan herself, which would involve him striking up a conversation with a woman who made no secret of her hatred of him.  He didn’t even know _why_ she disliked him so much, but there was a piece of him that wanted to know the reason.

If they were going to save Thedas, they were going to have to at least get along.

Cullen recalled another part of Cassandra’s report, the part that detailed Lady Trevelyan’s behavior on their journey.  Cassandra had described her fight with the rogue templars, how Lady Trevelyan had simply nodded when Cassandra asked if she was all right, and that had been that.

Such a short, simple response, but one that told Cassandra, as she wrote, that there was indeed more to Lady Trevelyan than met the eye.  She had killed before.  But who it was that she killed or why she had killed them remained unknown.

But there was another Lady Trevelyan present in Cassandra’s report.  A Lady Trevelyan who loved nature, who ran freely through the Hinterlands simply because she could.  A Lady Trevelyan who would stop and befriend a nug or a fennec.  A Lady Trevelyan who, whenever possible, set up her tent as close to the sound of water as possible.

A small smile toyed at the corners of Cullen’s lips.  He wished he could have seen that.

 _Maybe you could_.

Cullen was surprised by his own thought.  Well, he never knew where Lady Trevelyan went off to in the evening, while Matthias, her sentry, was having his supper.  He had intentionally left these couple evening hours without a guard.  He wasn’t the man he used to be; just because she was a mage and he didn’t know her that well, that didn’t mean she needed to be treated like a prisoner.

 _The old Cullen would have disagreed_ , he thought with a pang of regret.  He quickly willed it away.

Standing up from his desk, he refocused his thoughts.  Where might he find her now?  _She loved nature, loved water. . ._

The dock then.  He would try the dock first.

* * *

Cullen headed out of his cabin and turned left, staying out of the light from the buildings.  He reached the gate and grasped the handle, raising it slowly to avoid making any noise.  Once the gate was open just wide enough for him, he slipped out and closed the gate silently behind him.

The moment it shut, he heard it.

A voice.

A melody.

A song.

And he knew who it belonged to.

He kept his footsteps slow and steady, praying to the Maker that the snow where he stepped was soft and made no crunching noise.  He began to make out the words of her song as he grew closer.

_“Sing me a song of a lass that is gone. . .”_

Around a pine grove, down a small slope, and he saw her.  He ducked behind one of the pine trees.

_“Say, could that lass be I?”_

She sat on the edge of the dock, one knee tucked to her chest and her other leg dangling over the dock, and to his surprise, she was barefoot.  Her autumn-gold hair was in a long, thick plait over her shoulder, some strands coming loose.  She wore a filmy, pale-blue shirt with billowy sleeves that cinched at her wrists and loose pants of the same material and color.  The moonlight shone through the fabric, revealing the outlines of slender arms and long, lean legs.

“ _Merry of soul she sailed on a day. . ._ ”

One of her hands was moving, twirling something in her fingers.  He felt the familiar, underlying music of _her_ , but this was new.  Then he saw what she was maneuvering in her unmarked hand.  It was a soft, bluish-white color, but it wasn’t her ice; _that_ he was plenty familiar with, having been on its receiving end more than a few times since she had come along.  No, this – it seemed like the very light and shadows created by the glow of the moon were in her hand.

“ _Over the sea to Skye. . ._ ”

The breath rushed out of Cullen’s lungs.  Because it was exactly that.

Lady Trevelyan held _moonlight_ in her hand.

She sent it dancing around her, tossing it over the frozen lake and calling it back as she sang.

And it was beautiful.

_“Billow and breeze, islands and seas,_

_Mountains of rain and sun,_

_All that was good, all that was fair,_

_All that was me is gone. . ._ ”

Cullen stood in the shadow of the pine, transfixed by what he was seeing.  She seemed almost peaceful. . . were it not for the empty, lonely sound of her voice.  He was witnessing something rather unusual, he realized, a side of her he suspected she did not show to anyone if she could help it.  But no matter how his instincts flared against it, he almost felt sorry for her.

She was clearly no ordinary mage, from what he had seen of her on the battlefield.  But the ability to bend the very light of the moon to her will?  It was no magic he had ever seen before; the old Cullen would have immediately suspected blood magic.

But here in this moment, the new Cullen, the Cullen he was trying to become, saw a woman with an extraordinary, beautiful gift, who gazed over a lake as frozen as the walls she had built around herself.

He knew that, he realized, because he had done the same thing.

 _Maker’s breath, I have something in_ common _with Lady Trevelyan._

Cullen turned away and quietly retreated in the same direction he had come, giving her the privacy and space she clearly wanted.  He couldn’t let her know he had seen her.  This couldn’t change anything – it _didn’t_ change anything.  She still hated him, and he did not exactly like her. 

 _Besides_ , he thought, _she would most certainly_ not _want pity._

Because he would not – _did_ not, he mentally corrected himself – want it either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answers are coming, I promise! :)  
> I am a big Outlander fan, and I love Bear McCreary's version of "The Skye Boat Song." It fit with Althea so well that I had to use it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUBRbJPJtio
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, but seriously, I'm super excited about these reactions to my first fic!  
> As always, thank you so much for reading!  
> ~ Bellexandra


	6. Something In Common

Althea woke to the pink light of dawn.  Then she remembered why she was up so early – and groaned.

Josephine had reported yesterday that the Inquisition was growing in influence, thanks to Althea and her companions’ efforts in the Hinterlands and the Storm Coast. 

The Storm Coast had indeed proved interesting.  First of all, it was apparently possible for a scrap of land to have constant rain, thunder, and lightning.

And second of all, she had encountered her first – what was it?  _Qunari_ , she remembered.  The Iron Bull, his name was, and he was _massive_.  Not only was he built like a warrior, he was bigger than any man she had ever seen.  And besides that, he had _horns!_   Two horns like a steer’s, protruding from the side of his head, which also sported an intricately-designed eye patch over his left eye.  He had offered the services of his mercenary company to the Inquisition, despite being a spy for some kind of group in his homeland.  Althea had welcomed him and his company on the Inquisition’s behalf; she had seen him fighting, and he was impressively ruthless.

She had also learned that the giant could hold his liquor like no one else, resulting in an amusing, dare she say _fun_ , return trip to Haven.  She had also enjoyed the wide-eyed looks that greeted Iron Bull when he arrived with them.

But that was a couple of days ago.  Apparently, according to Josephine, growing influence meant that both the templars and mages were open to negotiations.

And the meeting this morning would almost certainly be a debate about which side to approach.

Althea sighed. “Well, this will be interesting, to say the least,” she muttered to herself, working up the muscle to sit herself up in her bed.  She had slept more soundly since arriving in Thedas, more comfortably than she ever had in her cushy room at Ostwick.  Maybe it was because she was feeling productive for the first time in years, more so than during her entire time in the Circle.  And while she didn’t particularly like the way people were speaking of her as the herald of a goddess, at least her voice was being heard.

And by the Maker, she was _going_ to be heard at this meeting.

Althea tossed the covers aside and got out of bed, making her way to the narrow wardrobe at the foot of her bed.  With great effort, she peeled off her diaphanous, ice-blue pajamas, putting on the beige, figure-skimming outfit that Josephine had obtained for her.  It wasn’t the prettiest thing, but it was functional and didn’t look half-bad once it was on.  Althea brushed her gold waves and side-braided them quickly on the right of her head.  Once she had pulled on her boots, she made her way to the cabin door and outside.

Not many in Haven were awake yet, but she could hear a few soldiers at the training grounds, up for an early-morning spar or training session.

Speaking of soldiers. . .

Althea glanced over to the hut beside hers – where that same templar (Garrett, she had learned his name was) sat on a stool, leaning against the outside wall, still sleeping.  She was no fool; she had noticed that either Garrett or another guard was near her at all times.

 _But who needs to be protected?_ she thought bitterly.  Apparently the Commander believed the townspeople needed protecting from _her_.  Maker, he was so _aggravating_.

She would have to have a chat with him about that sometime.

Actually, there were a few things she wanted to chat with him about.  Perhaps this meeting was a place to start.

Althea strode past Garrett and up the steps leading to the Chantry.  She knew immediately whose side she was taking, and she had strong, defensible reasons behind her arguments.

She pushed the doors open, a confidence breezing through her.

She _would_ win this battle.

And Maker help the ones who stood in her way.

* * *

Cullen paced around his small bit of territory by the war table.  He had been bracing himself for this conversation since Josephine had first laid out their options weeks ago.  He wanted to believe that he was neutral, but a nagging voice in the back of his head kept reminding him that he wasn’t.  He couldn’t be.  He told himself to keep an open mind, to listen to arguments and other opinions, but he believed what he believed.  Nothing – or no one – could change that.

And as the door to the little makeshift war room opened and Lady Trevelyan breezed in, he knew this was going to be a difficult battle.

“Good morning, Lady Herald,” Josephine said, rather energetic for the time of day.

Althea gave a frustrated little groan. “Josephine, _please_ , anything besides ‘Herald’ when we’re in council meetings.  And it’s much too early to be doing a deity’s dirty work anyway.” Cassandra and Leliana chuckled quietly, and Cullen joined in.

He caught himself.

 _Did he just chuckle at something Lady Trevelyan said?_   The bewilderment that flashed across her face told him that _yes, he did_.  Well, at least he couldn’t embarrass himself any more this morning.

Josephine quickly pulled them back to attention. “Thanks to the efforts of Lady _Trevelyan_ and the assorted members of her excursions, the Inquisition is becoming an entity recognized and even appreciated throughout Ferelden,” she began. “What that means now is that we have garnered enough influence to be able to approach either the mages or the templars for assistance in closing the Breach.  I called this meeting this morning so that we could. . .” Her eyes passed around the room. “. . .well, decide.”

“My personal opinion leans towards the mages,” Leliana said, speaking up first.

“As does mine,” Lady Trevelyan chimed in.  _No surprise there,_ Cullen thought.

Cassandra looked between Leliana and Lady Trevelyan. “And why do you think we should approach the mages?”

“The strange magic of the Breach is someone connected to the mark on Lady Trevelyan’s hand,” Leliana said. “It is only fitting that –”

“– that magic be the solution,” Lady Trevelyan finished.

“But then why not turn to a group trained to handle extreme magical situations?” Cassandra asked.  _So Cassandra is for the templars, too_.

“Such as the templars,” Cullen said, speaking for the first time.

Lady Trevelyan looked at him hard, a spark igniting in her eyes.  _She was expecting this_ , Cullen realized.   _She was ready for me to disagree._ “The Breach was created by magic.  So magic should be the solution.”

“But with enough templars, they may be able to _suppress_ the Breach long enough for you to close it without much difficulty,” Cullen said.  _Appeal to self-preservation._

“You’re not hearing me,” Lady Trevelyan huffed, her voice growing in frustration. “Concentrating enough magic into this godsforsaken mark –”

“Could very well destroy us all!” Cullen finished, interrupting her.  He almost relished the fury in her eyes.  Why couldn’t she get it?

Lady Trevelyan took a moment to collect herself. “Most of Thedas seems to blame the mages for creating the Breach in the first place,” she said, her gaze boring into Cullen, saying _by that, I mean you_. “This could be an opportunity to shut them up once and for all if it’s _mages_ who turn around and _save_ their sorry asses!”

Cullen heard a low snicker from Leliana. “I’m not saying it was the mages themselves who created the Breach, Lady Trevelyan, but the Breach itself had to have been created by magic,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “Then it should be the _opposite_ of magic that we turn to in order to close it.”

“Why are you so against giving mages a chance?” Lady Trevelyan practically shouted.

“Lady Trevelyan,” Cassandra said, a low warning in her voice.  But she was ignored.

Cullen was now on the defensive. “I’m not against –”

“ _You_ try living your life around people who fear and hate you because of what you are.  Because of something you can’t even control.”  Lady Trevelyan spoke only to Cullen now. “ _You_ try falling out of the sky into a new world.  _You_ try waking up every day with the hopes of that world on your shoulders.” Maybe he imagined it, but in a split second, pain flashed across her eyes, and he saw the lonely girl on the dock again.  Then her walls went right back up. “I’m going to Redcliffe in two days to approach Fiona and the rebel mages,” she declared. “Good day to you all.” She turned her back on the table, on the room, and left, leaving the door open and a stunned silence behind her.

And, with no idea what in the Maker’s name he was doing, Cullen found himself leaving the room after her.

* * *

Althea was seething.  And she knew he was there.  Didn’t he get it, that she was _not_ in the mood for any more today?  _Especially_ from him?

“It’s bad enough with Garrett following me around, but now you.  Is constant supervision really necessary, Commander?” she sighed irritably, turning around.

The Commander emerged from around the corner, coming to meet her in the corridor.

“I’m a grown woman, you know.  I _can_ take care of myself,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Until the Breach is sealed, you’re still under a lot of suspicion.  People just don’t know what to think of you, Lady Trevelyan, and you need to be kept safe,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s _my_ safety you’re concerned about, is it?” Althea retorted, unable to hide the bitterness from her voice. “I get it.  I’m a mage.  I’m a threat.  But I’m used to not being given a chance, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had enough _templar_ for one day.”  She started to stalk past him, but there was a sudden, iron grip on her wrist.  She whirled to face him, finding herself looking into his amber eyes blazing with fire.

“I am _not_ a templar any longer,” he hissed. “But I still think them the best choice.” So she had struck a nerve by calling him a templar, she noted.

Good.

“Putting ‘ex’ in front of the word ‘templar’ doesn’t erase the past,” she replied levelly, taking a step closer to him. “I know who you are.  I sure wish I didn’t, but I do.”  She felt the blue fire rising in her eyes as the anger bubbled to the surface. “Maybe you could try to understand where I’m coming from.  I’m a mage who has lost most of her family.  I fell out of a tear in the sky into this place called Thedas.  I’ve been placed on a pedestal I didn’t ask for.  And now I’m forced to work alongside the _coward_ who stood by and watched while Meredith tortured and _slaughtered_ my people!” He was silent, so she pressed on. “I bet you did some of her dirty work yourself,” she snapped, her tone accusatory.

It was only then that she became aware of the flames that were licking at her fingertips.

Flames that had very likely burned the Commander’s hand – and he wasn’t pulling away.

Then she saw his eyes.  As though she was seeing them for the first time.

The amber fire in them cooled as he slowly released her wrist.

In its place were the ghosts of memories.  Pain.  Sadness.

Hurt.

How had she not seen it there before?

Althea’s anger subsided as she realized what she had done.

And that she didn’t know him at all.

After a long silence, she managed to find her voice. “I’m. . . Commander, I – I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, I think you did mean,” he said, cutting her off. “Thank you, Lady Trevelyan, for making your opinion of me so clear.”  He turned to walk away, but suddenly turned back to her. “You’ve been given a chance with this Inquisition.  Have you ever thought that you might not be the only one here for that reason?”  He let his gaze linger for a moment before he turned his back on her, quickly walking away.

“Wait, I. . . Commander –” Althea’s stomach had dropped. “Cullen!” she called after him, surprising herself by using his first name.

He kept walking and was soon out of her sight, leaving Althea alone.

She slumped against the wall, looking at her hands. “ _Maker_ , I’m such a fool.”

* * *

Cullen didn’t look back.

But it occurred to him that she hadn’t called him “Commander.”

She had called him by his name.

And somewhere, in the back of his mind, a part of him wanted to hear her do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this could change some things, couldn't it? :)  
> As always, thanks for reading!  
> ~ Bellexandra


	7. A Pair of Insomniacs

_The three demons circled around him as he struggled against his bonds, their voices taunting._

_“You don’t need to be afraid,” one of them purred, its voice like metal grating on metal._

_“Oh, but it’s so much more fun when he is,” another said with a wicked grin._

_“Just look at him.  He’s already afraid.”_

_“But we’re not the worst things you fear any longer, are we?”_

_He willed all of his strength into his shoulders, leaning all of his weight into the shackles on his wrists. “Leave. . .me. . .alone,” he gritted out between efforts._

_The first demon was suddenly right in front of him.  It scraped a talon lightly across his collarbone. “Why would we do that?” it asked. “That_ is _what you’re most afraid of, isn’t it?”_

_“Being alone.”_

_“Left alone to your memories.”_

_“You could torture yourself worse than anything we could do.”_

_The first demon smiled wickedly, revealing sharp, cruel teeth. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that, won’t we?”_

\----------

Cullen jolted awake, droplets of cold sweat on his forehead.  He peered through the crack in his tent flap.  Still dark.  He probably hadn’t been asleep more than a few hours then.

Since that council meeting a week ago, the nightmares had returned in full force.

He knew he needed sleep, needed to rest, but when all sleep brought him was nightmares, he found it difficult to want any sleep at all.

With a frustrated sigh, he pushed himself off of his bedroll.  A walk outside should jolt the nightmares away for a little bit.  He reached for his usual fur cloak and loosely clasped it over the loose white shirt and brown trousers he used for pajamas.  Once he pulled on his boots, he stood up and pushed his way out of his tent.

The cold air was the first thing to hit him.  Cullen breathed it in, savoring the fresh smell of the light snow and pine trees.  He walked aimlessly, letting his mind wander.

He hadn’t talked to Lady Trevelyan in a week.  Their brief conversation in the Chantry corridor had left him angry and hurt – but it had also raised some questions in his mind.  How did she know of him?  What exactly did she know about Kirkwall?

_She believes I’m the villain of the story._

At least, the version of the story that she had been told.  Did she know how he had resisted Meredith in the end?  Stood up to her and actually fought _alongside_ the mages and Hawke?

Cullen didn’t know how much Lady Trevelyan knew about him, but he knew one thing for sure: she didn’t know the _half_ of what he had been through in his life.

 _Then again, I don’t know anything about_ her _life, either_ , he thought with a twinge of guilt.

But wait – there were pieces.  Things she had let slip, things that others had said about her.

_“You try falling out of the sky into a new world,” she had said in her anger._

_“You can tell she’s been through hell just by looking at her – which means she’s got one hell of a story to tell,” Varric had mused._

_“I’m used to not being given a chance,” she had snapped._

It was the “new world” bit that had him puzzled.  Was she – could she be from another _world?_   Was such a thing even possible?  Did another world actually exist?

Cullen wanted to come right out and ask her, but he was unsure how receptive she might be to questions from _him_.  He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

He looked at his hand, the one with which he had caught her wrist.

There were four, light-red burn scars, just above his wrist.

He had stood there while she burned his very skin.

He had not flinched.

And he had not been afraid, he realized.  Not of her magic – and not of her.

He heard her voice clearly in his head as though it were yesterday.  He had never seen her so insecure as in that moment when she realized she had pushed too far.

He had turned his back on her, and she had called after him.

_“Cullen!”_

Cullen tried to shake the sound of her voice saying his name out of his head, but he knew it was a losing battle.  They needed to talk, and soon.  If they were going to work together, if there was going to be any hope of the Inquisition’s success, they needed to clear the air – and perhaps, he hoped, answer some of the questions he knew they both had.

Cullen was formulating a plan in his head, an idea of when he could approach Lady Trevelyan, when he realized where he was.

On the edge of the pine grove, facing a dock where a young woman sat, singing softly and twirling moonlight around her fingers.

Cullen folded his arms and leaned against one of the trees, casting a brief glance upwards.

He sighed.  _Looks like the Maker had his own idea._

* * *

Althea couldn’t sleep.

She was at the dock again, her new favorite spot in Haven.  If there wasn’t a flowing source of water, a frozen one would have to do.  Here she could use her magic freely, away from prying, suspicious eyes.  She twirled another moonbeam around her fingers, humming quietly.  What she was able to do with light itself was a rare thing; her mother was the only other one who knew, Althea recalled, with a pang of loneliness.  _One more secret for me to have_.  She tossed the moonbeam over the frozen lake, making the colors in the ice dance.

She didn’t have nightmares, but every time she was on the brink of falling asleep, she saw the ghosts in the Commander’s eyes all over again.

_What had he been through that caused those shadows?_

She had seen varying levels of sadness and pain in people’s eyes before, but _that_ kind of haunted pain was unlike anything else.

And she felt _terrible_ for raising those shadows.  She had no right to judge a man she barely knew – and had made no effort to get to know.

 _But. . ._ It dawned on her that she _did_ know something about him.

_“You’ve been given a chance with this Inquisition.  Have you ever thought that you might not be the only one here for that reason?”_

He wanted redemption.

And had joined the Inquisition because he wanted a second chance.

A chance was all she had ever wanted, too, and now they both had one.

 _We at least have that in common_ , Althea thought. _Maybe we – maybe there are other things._

But she would have to seek him out in order to discover what those other commonalities might be.  Whenever their eyes happened to meet, Althea always looked away, unable to bear the overwhelming guilt she felt and resurrecting the ghosts in his amber eyes.  Would he even bother with her after what she had done?

_Will he give me a second chance?_

“Can’t sleep?” came a familiar male voice from behind her, making her jump and call the moonbeam back to her fingers.

_Well, apparently I won’t have to wait long to find out._

\----------

Althea took a deep breath.  She turned around to see the Commander leaning against one of the pine trees at the edge of the grove.  His arms were folded across his chest, and it looked like he had simply thrown his russet-colored fur cloak on over his pajamas, which consisted of a simple white shirt and brown breeches.

They regarded each other for a moment. “No,” she answered finally. “You?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“A shame.  Makes it difficult to do our jobs,” she said with a tentative half-smile.

The corners of his lips turned up as his shoulders relaxed. “Indeed,” he replied. “And yet I am still somehow trusted to carry a metal blade around.”

Althea chuckled, amused.  He was making jokes now.  Of course, she knew they were merely dancing around each other, trying to see if they were still in safe territory.  But she was curious. “So you often have difficulty sleeping?”

He sighed. “More often than not, I’m afraid.”

“Do you have any idea why?” she asked. “I might be able to. . .” She hesitated to say _help_ ; would he accept any kind of help from her?  From a mage at all?

“Nightmares,” he answered, weariness flashing through his eyes.

. . . _Oh.  That makes two of us._

He refocused on her. “Why can’t _you_ sleep?”

Althea gave him a sad smile. “Nightmares.”

They were silent again, letting the fact that they had something else in common sink in.

The Commander spoke first this time. “I. . .I must confess something, Lady Trevelyan,” he began, taking a couple steps toward Althea, his boots making no sound in the snow. “I’ve seen you out here before.  On the dock, by yourself.” His eyes were apologetic, yet curious. “I never meant to pry, but I heard singing and wanted to make sure whoever it was was safe, and I found. . .well, you,” he finished, rubbing the back of his neck. “And using a kind of magic I’d never seen before.  Whatever it is you do with light.” He gestured to her hand before falling silent again.

She should be mad.  She should be _furious_ , that he of all people had seen her first.

 _But I’m not_ , Althea realized, a weight lifting somewhere in her mind.

“I’m not upset with you,” she said, meaning every word. “Truthfully?  I’m glad that someone found out before it became something else to hide.”  Then another thought occurred to her. “And please. . . I’m not ‘Lady Trevelyan.’  People can call me whatever they want, but at least here, on this dock, at night,” she said, looking straight into his amber eyes, “I’m Althea.”

The Commander smiled at her.  A warm, genuine smile that cracked the ice between them. “Well. . . Althea,” he said, “then I’m Cullen.”

_Maker, the way my name sounds coming from him. . ._

She smiled back, feeling the wall between them beginning to melt as she tried not to think about him saying her name.

“Can I. . . can I ask what it is exactly that you do with light?” Cullen asked, a bit tentative.

“If you’re ready for the long story, then yes,” she replied.  An offer; if he was willing to listen, then she would tell him at least part of her story, one of the secrets she kept bottled away.

His amber eyes studied her face. “I do love a good story,” he said, and she thought she imagined the slightest tone of encouragement in his voice.

Althea let out a low, self-deprecating chuckle. “Well, I’ll let you decide if it’s a good one or not.” She gestured for him to come sit by her.  Cullen made his way over, and she found herself observing the way he walked toward her.

He seemed a bit cautious, but he had a powerful stride.  For the first time, she noticed how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were.  Even though she had always been on the tall side, she actually felt small when he finally sat down beside her on the dock.

Althea let out a nervous exhale. “I suppose I have to go back to the beginning.”

The corners of his lips twitched up. “I’ve heard it’s generally a good place to start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Storytime with Althea coming next! :)
> 
> ~ Bellexandra


	8. Lightsinging

“I was five years old when my magic manifested,” Althea began.  “I was sitting in one of our parlors reading a book of fairy tales by the fireplace, and it manifested in the form of fire.  I started dancing around the room, and before I knew it, little licks of fire were floating in the air, and a man and woman were dancing in the fireplace, just like in the fairy tale book.  My mother came in and saw me, and not long after that I was sent to the Ostwick Circle, where she was First Enchanter.” She looked down at her hands. “Have you ever heard of Ostwick?”

Cullen’s brow furrowed in thought. “No,” he answered, “I don’t believe that I have.”

Althea twisted a moonbeam around her wrist. “That’s because it. . . it’s not in Thedas.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not Thedan,” Althea said quietly. “I’m not from this world.” Cullen’s heart pounded, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything yet, so Althea continued. “There is a world called Andrilea that exists alongside Thedas.  That’s where I’m from,” she explained.

Cullen’s mind raced.  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and yet. . . it explained a lot.  Why she kept to herself, why she kept reading books on Thedan history, some of the things she had said.  But then, who else knew about this other world, this. . . Andrilea?

Althea spoke again. “Up until. . . _recently_ , I. . . I didn’t even know Thedas existed,” she said, her voice cracking on the word _recently_.

“The Conclave?” Cullen guessed.

“The Conclave,” she confirmed. “Well, just before it, actually.”

A silence hung between them as Cullen tried to wrap his mind around what she had just said. “So. . . you’re from another world.”

Althea’s tone was immediately apologetic. “I know it sounds crazy, it sounds impossible –”

“Whoa, slow down!” Cullen said, interrupting her. “It actually. . . makes sense.”

She looked back at him, clearly surprised. “ _What?_ ”

“I – I mean. . .” Cullen sighed. “I’ve just. . . noticed things.  Like how you keep asking Leliana for Thedas history books or asking Varric for stories.” There was amusement in his eyes. “Or how you avoid talking about home.”

“Hey, I’m talking about it now, aren’t I?” Althea replied with a smile that quickly faded. “At least, what I remember of it.  I can’t even remember the last time I _felt_ home.” She fiddled with the end of her gold braid, her sapphire eyes growing distant.

 _I can relate to that,_ Cullen thought, _and there’s something else we share_.  But he did not feel like going down that depressing, lonely avenue of conversation, so he steered her away from it. “Is your light magic Andrilean then?”

Althea’s attention snapped back. “If no one else here has heard of it, then it must be.  At least, I thought,” she said. “Mother told me it was extremely rare, that only a few mages in history have had it, and none she ever knew.” She tossed a moonbeam over the lake. “So I guess that makes me one of a kind.”

Cullen smiled. “I think it does,” he agreed, immediately realizing how it might sound.  Althea’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and the corners of her lips twitched. “I – that is, I –”

She let him stammer for a moment before she cut him off. “Can I. . . could I show you?” she offered, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

“If you’d like,” he replied, clearly relieved that the awkwardness was past.

But Althea’s mind suddenly raced at those three words.

_If you’d like._

_. . .a choice._

_The Knight-Captain of Kirkwall is giving me a choice._

_My own mother never gave me one._

“Are you all right?”

Althea shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “Yes, sorry – yes, I’d. . .” Althea sighed, calming herself. “I’d like to show you, if that’s all right.”

“I’d like that,” he said gently, that note of curiosity back in his voice.

“I never heard of a name for it,” Althea admitted, “so I gave it one.”

“What do you call it?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I know I’m asking an embarrassing amount of questions.”

“No, it’s. . . I’m glad you are.” Althea gave him a small smile. “And I call it. . . _lightsinging_.”

Althea looked away from him.  She concentrated on the soft beams of moonlight that kissed the snow below them, just underneath the dock.  She took a breath and began to sing.

_“How the tide rushes in_

_And covers footprints in the sand_

_As my hopes erased and carried_

_Out of my hands. . .”_

Cullen watched as the moonlight left the snow and rose through the cracks in the dock, surrounding him and Althea in soft, blue-white light.

_“How the tides ebb and flow_

_As driftwood tossed upon the shore_

_And my heart’s cast aside_

_And lost evermore. . .”_

With a flick of her wrist, Althea sent the light out over the ice.  The light kept in time with her singing, as though it were dancing to the music of her voice.

_“Yet though the ocean_

_With waves unending_

_Covers the Earth_

_Yet is there loss after all?”_

Cullen found himself mesmerized by her voice.  It was gentle and warm, and it soothed him, but there was a loneliness in it, too.  And as he watched the moonlight over the ice, it formed itself into the figures of a man and a woman, dancing together.

_“For what e’er drifts from one place_

_Is with the tide to another brought_

_And there’s naught lost beyond recall_

_Which cannot be found. . .”_

Althea saw the man and woman.  She hadn’t seen them manifest in years, but there they were, dancing a waltz across the ice to her singing.  She dared a glance at Cullen, who was looking at the pair.  As though he felt her eyes on him, he slowly turned his head to meet her gaze, his amber eyes swimming with an overwhelming amount of questions and emotions.  But the most prominent was recognition.

Cullen looked into her sapphire eyes and _knew_.  He knew how she felt, how lonely and empty she had been since falling into Thedas.  He heard it in her voice.  He had felt that way for years after Kirkwall, until Cassandra extended him the offer to join the Inquisition as its commander.

Althea twirled her fingers, bringing the moonlight back.  It swirled around them a couple times, before she gently sent it back below the dock to rest on the snow.

_“If sought.”_

Silence rested between them as she finished the song.

It was Cullen who spoke, watching the light settle below him. “Lightsinging,” he said softly, as though tasting the word on his tongue.  He turned his amber eyes back to hers, her own sapphire eyes seeming a little brighter, and smiled. “It suits you.”

They sat in a comfortable silence, simply regarding each other, the mage and the former templar.

And in that moment, neither of them felt alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a fun chapter to write, imagining what Althea's lightsinging looks like!  
> The dancing couple is back again. . .  
> And the song is "How the Tide Rushes In," the version sung by Eleanor Tomlinson as Demelza in the TV series Poldark.  
> As always, thanks for reading and the kudos! Over 300 hits!
> 
> ~ Bellexandra


	9. Curiouser...

“So have you made a decision, Lady Trevelyan?”

“I’m going to Redcliffe to talk to Fiona and the mages,” Althea replied, a quick side glance to Cullen, who gave her a small nod. “I just feel like they’re the best option.”

Josephine looked back to her writing board. “Very good.  When do you plan on leaving?”

“Probably in a day or two?  I just need a bit of time to read up a little more, if that’s all right,” Althea said, looking at the map.

“That makes perfect sense,” Leliana said. “Who would you like to accompany you?”

Althea thought for a moment. “Cassandra, Bull, and Solas,” she answered.

Leliana nodded. “I will let them know.”

“Then I think we are done for today,” Josephine said, adjoining their meeting. “We shall await news from you after you have talked to the mages, Lady Trevelyan.”

One by one, they all filed out of their little council room.  Althea turned to go as well, but Cullen spoke up.

“Lady Trevelyan, might I have a word?” he asked.  They had silently agreed to keep using formal titles while in the war room or conducting business.

She turned back to him. “Of course, Commander.” She set down the papers she was holding. “What is it?”

 _How to say this?_ he thought. “I was wondering if. . .  if perhaps you. . . might allow me to accompany you to Redcliffe as well?”

Surprise flashed across her eyes. “Why?”

“It’s – difficult to explain,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I guess it comes down to the fact that I want to prove that I can – that. . . while I might not approve of all of their methods, I can see where they are coming from.  And if. . . “ He sighed, bringing himself to meet her gaze. “If people see that the former Knight-Cap – _templar_ can work alongside mages, it might help them.”

He tried to study her face, to find any kind of reaction, but he couldn’t.  There was a brief silence before she spoke. “I think that’s –”

“It’s probably a foolish idea –”

“– brilliant.”

He blinked. “What did you say?”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea, Cullen,” she said, lowering her voice. “Really, I do.”

Cullen didn’t know what to say.  He knew she was going to choose the mages, and he had agonized over what would be the best thing for him to do in response.  He had reached the conclusion that if the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall could work with mages, so could anyone.

And apparently, Althea agreed.

“I will make all the arrangements regarding training while I am away,” he said. “I just. . . it would make me feel better if I were there.”

Althea smiled. “We leave in a couple of days then,” she said.  She picked up her papers again and turned to leave. “Commander?”

“Yes?”

“Have a good afternoon,” she said, a bit shyly.

Cullen smiled back at her. “You too, Lady Trevelyan.”

As soon as she was out of sight, Cullen released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

* * *

As soon as she was back in her cabin, Althea closed the door.  She leaned against the wood, staring at the fireplace.

“ _What?”_ she quietly exclaimed to the empty air.

_He wants to come to Redcliffe._

_He wants to be able to work alongside mages._

She remembered what he had said that night, his amber eyes haunted and fiery. _“You’ve been given a chance with this Inquisition.  Have you ever thought that you might not be the only one here for that reason?”_

What she had heard from Mother and Grandmother about him were true – or had been true.  He had witnessed and likely done horrible things, but. . . that was in the past, wasn’t it?  That wasn’t the man he was now, the man he was trying so hard to become.

With a long exhale, Althea flopped onto her bed, looking up at the ceiling.

The Commander continued to surprise her.

She wanted to know more, she realized.  But she didn’t think it her place to be asking him deep, personal, questions.  Who would have answers?  Who could she ask . . .

\----------

Naturally, Althea turned to Varric.

 “What can you tell me about Cul – the Commander?”

This evening, she found him in the tavern, sitting at a table alone with a mug of ale.  He looked at her curiously, that mischievous glint in his eyes. “And why might the Andrilean Lady Herald want to know about our Commander?”

“Well, he has managed to find out things about me, so I think it’s only fair I get to do some digging myself,” Althea said, her tone the slightest bit defensive.  The “Inner Circle,” as she liked to call them, had all been made aware of Althea’s origins; she had called a special meeting last week, believing it only right that they know who their “Herald” really was.

 _But only one knows about the lightsinging,_ Althea thought to herself.

Varric itched his chest. “I’m sure everything you’re looking for is in _Tale of the Champion_.”

“ _Tale of the Champion_ is good, but you knew him on a personal level back then, too, and _those_ details are conveniently missing,” Althea pointed out.

Varric quirked an eyebrow, then laughed. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“I’ve been told it’s a gift,” Althea said with a nonchalant, demure shrug.  Varric smiled and gestured for her to sit down across from him.

“Cullen was pretty shaken up after –” Varric seemed to catch himself. “No, no, that’s not where I want to start.  Let me try again.” He took a breath. “I first met Curly when he was Knight-Captain under Meredith in Kirkwall.  He was very. . . ‘stiff’ is probably a good word.  But the thing is, he shouldn’t have been.”

“What do you mean?” Althea asked.

“I could tell just by looking at him that he had already been through a _lot_ of shit for someone so relatively young.” He studied Althea for a moment, a small smile on his face. “Funny, it was the same way when I met you on the path to the Breach the first time.  But I digress.” He swirled the ale in his mug. “He was misguided, sure, with his views on mages, but he was nowhere near as crazy as Meredith.”

“But he turned against her and fought with Hawke, right?”

“He sure did.” Varric drained his mug and set it down on the table. “But the thing about Curly is that he’s loyal.  Loyal to those he cares about, loyal to his moral compass, loyal to what he believes in.  _That’s_ why he turned on Meredith; he knew what she was doing was wrong and that he could never bring himself to annul an entire Circle.” He looked at Althea again and lowered his voice to an almost conspiratorial level. “I have seen a lot of things in my life, but the kind of hard work and loyalty that Cullen demonstrates is. . . truly, like nothing else.  And what’s more, he’s humble.  He doesn’t think much of himself, but he does everything he can for other people.  The Inquisition is lucky to have him.”

Althea was silent, trying to take all of it in.  _Loyalty.  Selflessness.  Low self-esteem.  Strong work ethic.  Knows what he believes in and stands by it._

A voice in her head suddenly said,  _Sounds like you._

Althea stood up from her chair abruptly, trying to shake the voice from her head. “Thanks, Varric,” she said. “I just wanted to know more about who exactly I’m going to be travelling with.”

“Sure, sure.” Varric winked at her, waving Flissa over for a refill. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, but next time, we're off to Redcliffe!  
> Thanks for reading and for your kudos! :)  
> ~ Bellexandra


	10. Friends and Nightmares

“How are you feeling, Commander?”

Cullen turned to Cassandra at the sound of her voice.  They had been riding for three days to the Hinterlands and were now making camp before going to Redcliffe in the morning. “Honestly, Cassandra?  I’m enjoying this immensely,” Cullen answered. “I didn’t realize how much I missed. . .well, open sky.” It was the truth; they had set off from Haven, and Cullen hadn’t regretted his decision to come for a single moment.  There was something about travelling together that bonded people, he noticed.  There had been very few silent moments between the five of them.  Someone always had an idea or a thought that provoked lively conversation.

Cassandra gave him a little smile. “I’m glad to hear it.  And. . .” She lowered her voice. “. . .I think it is a bold decision for you.  A bold, positive step.”

Cullen dipped his head in thanks. “That means a lot from you, Cassandra.  Thank you.”

“This the camp you want to stop in for tonight?” He heard the Iron Bull’s distinct voice at the front of their group, directed at Althea.

Cullen’s gaze drifted immediately to her, even though he could only see her back at the moment.  She wore simple armor made of green leather and brown boots, and her hair was tied into a ponytail, letting her gold waves have a bit of freedom.  Atop her chestnut-brown horse, Cullen could have taken her for a born Ferelden woman.

 _Which_ , he reminded himself, _she is most certainly not_.

“Yes, this is the one,” Althea replied as the camp came into view.

It was a simple field camp: requisition table, potion refill station, and a few tents.  Two Inquisition soldiers were there to guard and maintain it.  Greyson and Helena – he recognized them from training exercises.

And, Cullen noticed, it was right next to the creek.  _Althea and her water,_ he thought with a smile.  _So it’s true._

Althea dismounted from her horse, and the rest of the party followed suit.  She approached the Greyson and Helena, who saluted her with their right fists over their hearts.

“Your Worship,” they said in unison.

“Anything to report?” Althea asked.

“No, milady,” Helena answered. “Since you took care of the wolves and built the watchtowers, the farms have been peaceful.”

“Glad to hear it,” Althea said. “We’re here now, so you can rest and do whatever you need to until it’s time for your night watch.”

“Thank you, Your Worship,” Greyson said with a little bow.  He and Helena went off for a walk.

Bull, Cassandra, and Solas set about unloading their horses and taking their effects into the tents.  Cullen watched them, until –

_One. . .two. . .three. . .four. . ._

Four tents.

But there were five of them this time.

“Ah. . . Lady Trevelyan?” Cullen called.  She turned from her horse, and he gestured her over.

“Yes, Commander?” she asked, concern surfacing in her sapphire eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“No!  No, ah – that is –” He gestured clumsily at the tents. “There are four tents, and there are five of us.”

Althea’s face fell. “Oh, _no_. . .” She looked around, counting the tents. “I completely forgot to have Leliana send a raven and tell them to get an extra tent!  I am _such_ an idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Cullen said, the words out quickly, almost out of instinct. “But I. . . well, I’m going to have to share with someone.”

He could see her thinking it over, a small furrow appearing between her eyebrows.

“My tent is the biggest,” she said, looking at the tent in question, avoiding his gaze. “So I suppose it would make sense for you to. . . to share with. . .me.”

“ _Oh_ , no, I couldn’t – I mean, that is a generous offer, but –” The words tumbled out over each other in a jumbled mess.  _He_ share a tent with _her?_   With the Herald of Andraste?  With –

“Cullen.” She looked at him now, her sapphire eyes unreadable. “I really don’t mind.  The ground is covered, and there’s plenty of space for a second bedroll.”

Cullen lowered his voice. “It isn’t the space that concerns me, Herald, but how. . .” He ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t you think it might look a little. . .”

“ _Cullen_.” He was beginning to realize, selfishly, that he was starting to enjoy every time she said his name.  _Stop it,_ he thought to himself.  She put her hands on her hips. “It’s camp.  We make do.  I don’t mind.” Her eyes softened. “We’re _friends_.  Friends can share tents.”

Friends?

 _Friends_.

One word, and she had completely floored him.  He couldn’t remember the last time someone called him a _friend_.

“Then. . . I thank you,” Cullen said, trying to hide how that word had affected him.  He gestured to the reins she had in her hand. “Allow me,” he offered, extending a hand.

“Thank you,” Althea said gratefully.  Her gaze lingered a split second more before she went to speak with Solas.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to the horse. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered.

* * *

“– couldn’t even stand up straight!  He snored through the entire ceremony!”

Althea’s stomach hurt from laughing so hard at Bull’s stories.  Solas had politely excused himself about an hour ago; he was probably walking the Fade by now, as he liked to do.  She, Cassandra, and Cullen had stayed outside while Bull told them stories of his escapades while growing up under the Qun, nursing mugs of tea that Solas had prepared over the fire.

A comfortable silence fell over the group.  Althea drained her mug and rose from the stump she had been sitting on. “Well, tomorrow is an important day,” she said, “so I think I’m going to get some rest.” She looked at her three companions warmly. “Goodnight.”

She heard them say various forms of “goodnights” after her as she went into her tent.

 _Me and Cullen’s tent_ , she corrected herself.

He had reacted so strangely when she had said the word _friend_ earlier.  It occurred to her that he probably didn’t have many friends.  Especially in the time since Kirkwall.

She changed her pants first, opting for a cozy pair of leggings to sleep in.  She had grown attached to the ice-blue pajamas Josephine had acquired for her in Haven, but out here in the autumnal Hinterlands weather, she was glad to have something warmer.  She unclasped her green tunic and slid it off of her shoulders, leaving her in only her breastband.

_Come to think of it, I haven’t really had a friend in years, either.  I guess we have that in common, too._

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, relishing the feeling of the fall air on her skin.

_We’ll help each other, then.  That’s what friends –_

She heard Cullen’s voice behind as he gently pushed his way into the tent. “Thank you again for letting me –” He stopped short with a sharp intake of breath.

What would make him stop. . .

Oh.

 _Oh_.

She felt his amber eyes burning through her as they traveled across her back, reading it like a book.

What he didn’t know was that he was reading the story of that night.  That night in the Circle when she believed all her dreams were going to come true – and instead continued to give her the worst nightmares imaginable.

She felt his gaze move from the jagged scars that peeked over her breastband, settling on that Maker-damned spot just above her right shoulder blade.

The spot in the shape of half of the Sunburst.

_A betrayal._

_A scream._

_The orange of the Brand._

_The smell of burning flesh –_

She quickly pulled her sleep shirt over her head and unwound her band, making sure to keep her back covered. “It’s not a problem at all, Cullen,” she said brusquely as she finished putting on the shirt, responding to what he had intended to say.  Pulling herself together and settling an expression of nonchalance on her face, she turned to look at him.

He had changed outside the tent, wearing the same white shirt and brown trousers he had worn that night on the dock at Haven.  His eyes were overwhelming to look at, wide with all the emotions and thoughts flying across them.  It almost gave her a headache to try to read them all.

He cleared his throat quietly as he made his way over to his bedroll, set up next to hers.  Althea climbed into her roll and pulled the cover up over her shoulders, lying on her side so she faced away from him.  She closed her eyes, trying to get rid of the image of Cullen standing there, amber eyes wide, as the door to the darkest moment of her past had been cracked open to him.

“Goodnight, Cullen,” she said.

There was a pause as she heard him get into his own bedroll.  He spoke quietly, gently, as though he were singing a lullaby.

“Goodnight, Althea.”

* * *

_There was red everywhere._

_In the blood on the floor, the fire crackling and hissing in the hearth._

_“N – no, Darron, please –”_

_In the eyes of the man who held the brand closer and closer to her forehead._

_Althea felt a strange kind of blue fire well up inside of her as she looked up at him through her tear-blurred vision at the man she thought she had loved.  But there was no love there._

_And she had no love for him._

_The fire inside of her grew, filling her up until she thought she might explode. “I trusted you!”_

_Now, as the Brand inched closer to her, there was nothing else now but her pain and rage, and she let it consume her._

_“NO!”_

_She stuck out a hand, blue flames at her fingertips –_

_And suddenly, the room went black, lit only by the blue flame in her hand, which was now softer._

_A hand extended out of the darkness, clasping her fire-covered one.  She could only make out the outline of the figure to whom the hand belonged, and she was amazed that whoever it was did not recoil from her fire._

_She was pulled to her feet, allowing herself to be led into the darkness.  Her hand was lifted to press against something warm and solid, and she felt a gentle pulse there, something like a heartbeat.  She felt the tears slide down her cheeks as peace overtook her, and the nightmare ended._

\----------

Cullen had woken up just as Althea was having a nightmare.

She had rolled over onto her other side and was now facing him, though she still slept.  “ _N – no. . . no, Darron, please. . ._ ” she said in her sleep.

He didn’t know who this _Darron_ was, but he didn’t like him at all.

“ _I trusted you –_ ” Suddenly, her voice rose. “ _No!_ ”

Instinctively, he reached out and grasped her hand.

To his surprise, she clutched it back, almost desperately.

“Shh.” He tried to soothe her, running his thumb over the back of her hand and over her long fingers.  He knew what his own nightmares were, but he could only imagine what kind of things her nightmares involved.

And if they were now indeed friends, Cullen believed that it was only right that he pull her out of whatever darkness haunted her thoughts.

He had a feeling that it involved the jagged scars and that half-Sunburst on her back, but he would be patient.  He would wait for her to tell him.  She would tell him when she was ready.

And, he decided, he would someday tell her what haunted him, too.

Suddenly, her breathing hitched, and Cullen saw two tears slide down her cheeks.

He couldn’t think of anything to do, but he found himself lifting her hand to his chest, pressing it gently over his heart.

He watched as Althea’s face relaxed and she slid into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  The contentedness on her face made him smile.  He simply watched her sleep for a few minutes, feeling that this was somehow the Maker's doing, that Cullen be there for her tonight.

When sleep overtook him at last, Cullen did not let go of her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a while, but I wanted to get it right and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I wanted Cullen to be the one leading Althea out of a nightmare this first time.  
> I promise that answers about Althea's scars and "that night" are not far away!  
> As always, thanks for reading and for your comments and kudos!  
> ~ Bellexandra


	11. Sunburst

Althea had woken up feeling more rested than she had in weeks.  She had had the nightmare again, but it hadn’t ended with the room engulfed in blue flames.

She remembered taking someone’s hand and being pulled into the bliss of a dreamless sleep.  She had no idea who it was, but she was beyond grateful that it had happened.

Today had presented probably the most difficult task she had faced so far: negotiating an alliance with the rebel mages and securing their help closing the Breach. 

She _had_ felt hopeful.

But now, standing in the tavern and watching Alexius leave with his son Felix. . .

Well, quite frankly, she was confused.

Fiona was apparently no longer the leader of the rebel mages, the mages had apparently sold themselves in service to a nation called Tevinter, and Fiona had no recollection of such an event.  Then Felix, who suffered from a disease called the blight, had pretended to collapse, slipping a note into Althea’s hand.  Alexius had grown concerned and abruptly ended their meeting.

Something about Gereon Alexius was just not right.

“Okay, so what in the hell just happened?” Bull asked, his brow furrowed.

“My thoughts exactly,” Althea replied.  She opened her clenched fist to show them the note. “But I think Felix wants to give us some answers.”

* * *

Felix’s note led them to the old Chantry in Redcliffe.  When Althea opened the door, she saw a dark-haired mage brightly lit by green light – from a rift in the center of the room.

“Oh, good, Felix was successful,” the mage said, his tone light. “Would you mind helping me close this thing?”

Althea sprang into action, as did the rest of her party.  She was able to destroy the wraiths easily with basic attacks, but then she saw a pair of shades heading towards Cullen. 

His back was turned, his attention on taking down a shade of his own.  Althea cast a freezing spell on the two shades, then detonated them with fire.

Cullen whirled around, his sword black with shade blood.  His eyes were lit with the fire of battle, but Althea thought she saw them soften briefly as he gave her a short nod of thanks.  His attention turned to back to the rift as the second wave of demons came through.

“A rage demon!” Cassandra shouted.  Sure enough, the fiery figure of a rage demon appeared, as did another cluster of wraiths.

The dark-haired mage flung his own ice spell at the rage demon, encasing it in ice.  Althea smiled.  _Great minds think alike_ , she thought.  She again cast a detonating spell, and the demon shrieked in pain.  One more of those ought to finish it.

The mage flashed a grin at her.  Althea swung her staff and froze the demon again, and it exploded, this time into floating scraps of the Fade.  She looked around, and Solas, Bull, Cassandra, and Cullen had already taken care of the other demons.  Her eyes met Cullen’s, and when he gave a barely perceptible nod, she stretched out her left hand.  The green mark connected with the rift, which closed with a last flash of green light.

“So that’s how it works, is it?” Althea turned to see the dark-haired mage leaning casually against a wall. “You fling out your hand and you can close rifts in the Fade.  Fascinating!”

“Who are you?” Cassandra asked, ever the practical one.

“Ah, yes, introductions.” He gave a sweeping, debonair bow. “I am Dorian Pavus of Tevinter.  Pleased to meet you all,” he said, dark eyes sweeping over the group and coming to rest back on Althea. “You must be the one they call the Herald of Andraste then?”

“They call me that, yes, but I prefer Althea Trevelyan.”

Dorian’s lips curled up in amusement. “Beauty, power, and a sense of humor!” He set his staff back into its holster on his back. “I think you and I will get along quite well.”

“Dorian!”

The group turned to see Felix emerge from the shadows.  Dorian stepped closer to him. “Were you able to sneak away?  He doesn’t suspect anything?”

“No, he doesn’t.  But I shouldn’t have played the illness card.” Felix sighed. “He frets like a mother hen.”

“You’re helping us?” Cullen asked, a bit surprised.

“My father is trying to help me, but he doesn’t care how he does it.” Felix exchanged a look with Dorian. “Which means he’s resorted to dangerous things.”

“When fatherly love goes wrong,” Dorian remarked.

“So what is your connection to this?” Cassandra asked him.

“Alexius was my mentor for a time,” Dorian said. “I know him, I know how he works, and I know why Fiona doesn’t remember anything.”

“You do?” It was Solas who spoke up this time, his eyes curious.

“If you’ll let me, I’d rather explain at Haven,” Dorian said. “Fewer eyes and ears.”

Althea nodded. “Of course.  Can you meet us there in two days?”

“As you command, Lady Herald,” Dorian said with a charming smile, adding another flourishing bow as he swept out the back door of the Chantry.

“So. . . back to work?” Bull asked with a sideways glance at Althea.

“Back to work,” she replied, leading the party out the front doors.

* * *

The party was passing the Redcliffe docks when a voice called out from behind them.

It was directed at Althea. “You are the one they call Andraste’s Herald, aren’t you?”

It was a question.  There should have been a note of curiosity in the person’s voice – but there was nothing.

Only emptiness.

Althea’s blood went cold.  Her heart began to pound in her chest.  _Not here_ , she thought desperately, pleading with herself.   _Not now._

She slowly turned to face the source of the voice.

The woman could not have been more than five years older than Althea.  Her robes were a muted, pale yellow, with little ornamentation.  Her dark brown hair was pulled into a simple, tidy bun, and her eyes were dull, though they were fixed on Althea.

Althea willed herself to look only at the woman’s eyes.  _No higher than that._ “Yes, I am,” she replied.

“Then I must applaud you,” the woman said in that same flat, hollow tone. “You have done more for the people of the Hinterlands than Redcliffe’s leaders have been able to do for a single village.”

Althea gave her a short nod. “Thank you,” she replied.  Her stomach was starting to churn, and the familiar suffocating feeling was coming on. “I am – _we_ are only trying to do the best we can in this situation.” _Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, let me leave. . ._

“Truly admirable,” the woman continued. “But I digress.  My name is Claria, I called out to you because I would like to offer my services to the Inquisition as a researcher.”

Althea froze.  Every instinct inside her screamed _no, no, no_.  But this was not about her, this was about the Inquisition.  In reality, the Inquisition could use another magical researcher.  She opened her mouth to reply, but her voice failed her.  The sky was beginning to close in around her as the edges of her vision darkened.  Frantically seeking a way out, her eyes found the Seeker. “Cassandra?” Her voice came out shaky and strangled.

Surprise flashed across Cassandra’s face.  Her eyes lingered on Althea for an extra moment before turning to Claria. “You would be most welcome in the Inquisition,” she said. “As soon as you can get to Haven, seek out Leliana.  She will undoubtedly have work for you.”

“Thank you, Lady Seeker,” Claria said, turning back to Althea. “And you, Lady Herald.  It is good to know that I may still be of use without my magic.” And she dipped her head in thanks.

Inevitably putting Althea’s gaze right on the Sunburst in the middle of her forehead.

Althea couldn’t breathe.

Everything narrowed to her and that Maker-forsaken mark.

It was coming at her, _closer, inches away, burning red-hot –_

With a strangled cry, Althea ran.  It didn’t matter where she went; she just needed to run _away_.

A shocked Seeker, a curious Qunari, a pensive elven apostate, and a concerned Commander all stared after her.

\----------

The four of them stood in a stunned silence.

“What was _that_ about?” the Iron Bull finally asked.

“I do not know,” Cassandra replied, “but with a reaction like that –”

“– she has been through more than we know,” Solas finished quietly.

Cullen knew he was right.  Suddenly an image flashed into his mind, of jagged lines and a half-Sunburst on otherwise-smooth skin.

Her scars.

There were scars on her back, but the way she had responded to the Tranquil. . .

Althea Trevelyan had scars that ran _deep_.

“Commander?” Solas’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, yes?” Cullen replied, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind.  Cassandra and Bull were heading towards the Redcliffe gates already.

“I think you should go find her,” the elf said, his eyes bright but unreadable. “If I’m not mistaken, you have some things in common.”

He didn’t care what Solas knew, or how he knew it; he was right. “Where do you think she went?”

“You’ve read the reports, haven’t you?”

“Of course.”

Solas quirked his head to the side ever so slightly. “Then I think you have some ideas.” Then he turned and followed Bull and Cassandra out of the village.

Once again, Solas was right; Cullen _did_ have some ideas.

And they all involved water.

\----------

Althea had found a small, hidden inlet in the creek, away from Redcliffe and away from the camp.  She sat on a cleft of rocks next to the river, her knees hugged to her chest.  Water had always been a source of peace and calm for her.

When soft footsteps approached, Althea wasn’t surprised.  She figured someone would come looking for her.

“I thought I might find you by water.”

She was _not_ expecting that particular voice. “So they sent the ex-templar after the mage,” she said with a bitter chuckle.

“No one sent me,” Cullen said, still behind her. “Friends are supposed to be there for each other, aren’t they?”

That wall around her heart cracked again at that word – _friends_.  She couldn’t help the little smile that bubbled up to the surface.  But she still couldn’t talk.  Not yet.

Cullen sat next to her on the boulder.  They sat in silence for what felt like an hour.  Neither one moved, neither one spoke, simply waiting patiently for whatever needed to be said.

But finally, Cullen broke the silence again. “I’m not going to bother asking if you’re okay, because anyone can see that you aren’t.” She felt his eyes on her, felt his concern.  The tears were building in her throat, and she willed them to go no further. “But something about seeing that Tranquil woman today set you off, and. . .” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “And if you want. . . if you want to talk about it –”

“I don’t,” Althea said suddenly, softly.  She expected him to leave.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he asked in a voice just as low, “Why?”

 _That_ took her by surprise.

She hadn’t really thought about it before.  Why _didn’t_ she want to talk about it?  In her gut, she knew exactly why.  She kept her gaze down at her hands, still clutched around her knees. “Because saying it makes it real.” _Too real.  Too close._

“Maybe. . . saying it gets it out of your head,” Cullen thought aloud. “Once it’s out of your head, your imagination can’t make it bigger.  Can’t. . . twist it into a nightmare.”

_The nightmares.  The red, the burning, the Brand. . ._

The words welled up inside of her, suddenly bursting out. “It should have been me.”

Cullen was startled. “What?”

“Why the Tranquil bothered me?  Why I reacted the way I did?”

His eyes were steeled, as though he were bracing himself for something. “Why?” he asked quietly, his voice gentle.

“I _can’t_ be made Tranquil.”

The only indication of surprise on his face was a blink.  He didn’t push her, didn’t pry, didn’t overreact.  All he asked was, “How you do know?”

Finally, Althea turned her sapphire gaze to him, her voice soft and quivering.

“Because they tried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter, but it was hard for me to find a break. And next you get a whole chapter about "that night" back in Ostwick. The story's making progress! :)  
> ~ Bellexandra


	12. Scars

Cullen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “They. . . tried to make you Tranquil?”

Althea nodded, still meeting his gaze.  He watched her sapphire eyes as their blue seemed to swim, as the ghosts of the memories that haunted her and walked in her nightmares rose out of their depths.  He recognized that look.

It was the same look he saw every day when he looked in the mirror.

“I’m going to guess that it was nothing to do with a failed Harrowing,” Cullen said, a statement rather than a question.

“You’re very perceptive,” Althea remarked, fiddling with the end of her gold braid. “No, not a failed Harrowing.” She paused, thinking about her words.  She looked out at the gently-flowing river. “Maker, you’re going to think so little of me now.”

“Althea.” She turned to him at his use of her name. “I promise you, I could never think little of you.  Whatever you tell me.”

\----------

His words moved her.

Her _friend_.  Cullen was her friend.

And he was the first person in her life who was willing to listen.

“It wasn’t a failed Harrowing,” Althea repeated.  She forced her next words past her lips. “It was a. . . a matter of the heart.”

With one more furtive glance at Cullen, Althea launched into her tale.

* * *

“I was whisked away to the Ostwick Circle about two days after my magic manifested.  Once I got there, wherever I went I was introduced as ‘the First Enchanter’s daughter.’  It impressed the other teachers, but it put distance between me and the other students.  Even the templars in our Circle seemed to give me a particularly wide berth, lest I tell my mother.  My classmates did one of two things: stayed away from me or talked about me behind my back.  Which became talking about me to my face.

“One day when I was fourteen, this particularly nasty girl named Olissa and her cohorts ganged up on me in a corridor.  They shoved my books out of my hands and pushed me to the ground, laughing and calling me ‘Princess of Ostwick.’  Olissa slapped me across my face before. . .

*

_“Hey!” a male voice shouted from behind her tormenters._

_Through her tears, Althea saw them split, making way for a young man – a templar, she realized._

_He glared at them. “What do you think you’re doing?” he snarled at Olissa.  Olissa looked like she was about to say something snarky before she thought better of it. “That’s what I thought.  If I catch you doing anything to her again, it won’t be a warning that I give you next time,” he hissed, eyes fiery. “Now get back to your rooms.”_

_The girls scattered like mice, leaving Althea huddled on the ground, tears streaking her stinging face._

_The templar turned to her, his eyes now filled with concern. “Let me see,” he said, his voice gentle.  He knelt in front of her, gently lifting her chin to meet his gaze.  He had warm, chocolate-brown eyes and a strong, square jaw.  His brown hair curled ever so slightly, and it was long enough that he had to tie it back._

_It occurred to Althea that he was actually rather handsome, and the thought made her blush; she was actually grateful that her cheek was red so that he wouldn’t notice._

_“I think a cool washcloth on that cheek will dull the pain and take away the redness, but it’s nothing serious. . . at least, on the outside.” He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. “Is something troubling you, Miss Trevelyan?” he asked._

_“N – no, it’s. . . it’s nothing I don’t already have to live with,” Althea replied quietly._

_“Well, I’m sorry that you have to live with it,” the templar replied._

_The genuine tone of his voice caught her by surprise.  No one ever bothered to speak with her, and now a_ templar _took notice of her troubles?  The templars, the ones some of the mages called oppressors. . . it was one of them who spoke to her as a human being._

_The templar stood up and offered his hand.  Althea took it, and he pulled her up. “My name is Darron, Miss Trevelyan.  If you need anything, anything at all, please consider me at your disposal.” He bowed slowly, still grasping her fingertips._

_An electric current surged through Althea as his lips brushed the back of her hand._

*

“He rescued me,” Althea said softly. “He knew who I was, and he didn’t care.  What he _did_ care about was whether or not I was okay.” She let out a sharp exhale. “Which was more than what could be said of my mother.

“After that first encounter, I saw more and more of him.  Doing his rounds past my dormitory, stationed at the library doors, even supervising the classes I was in.  He found small excuses to talk to me, and I found little excuses to talk to him whenever I could.  He – he cared.  He saw past ‘the First Enchanter’s daughter’ to the lonely girl I was.  And I told him everything that was in my heart, the things I had had to keep inside of me for so long.  It went on for two years, and I actually had a friend in the Circle.  A good friend.  Until one night. . .”

*

_It was a half-hour past the library’s closing, but Althea was still there, engrossed in a history book.  One of the few perks of being a Trevelyan, she thought bitterly; at least she could let her mind escape for longer periods of time._

_“Miss Trevelyan?”_

_Althea jumped out of her seat, startled.  She looked toward the doors to see Darron standing there. “Oh, Darron –”_

_“No, no, my apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, trying to recover from his own start at her response._

_After an awkward silence, Althea asked, “What are you doing here?”_

_Darron gave her a little half-smile. “I think the question is, what are_ you _doing here?” He, of course, implied the library’s rules._

_She smiled back, gesturing to the history book in front of her. “You know me,” she said._

_“I suppose I do.” He came over and sat by her. “So where are you traveling tonight?”_

_“A small village near the border of Terra Nouveau.”_

_“What’s so special about it in particular?”_

_The smile faded from Althea’s face, and her eyes grew distant. “The same thing about anywhere else,” she replied quietly. “The fact that it isn’t here.”_

_He tensed beside her._

_Althea immediately recognized her mistake.  She was talking to a templar, and she had. . . “No, Darron, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry –”_

_He turned his chair to face her. “Althea, I know exactly how you feel.”_

_She was stunned. “You do?”_

_Darron rose from his seat and paced over to the window, where snow was gently falling outside. “I know that mages feel trapped; they don’t hesitate to make their suffering known.  But. . .” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I feel just as trapped as you do.”_

_Althea rose and took a couple of steps toward him. “Really?”_

_“I wish I could run.  I wish I could just leave.  I wish I didn’t have to be what everyone expects me to be all the time.  It’s just not who I am.”_

_“Why haven’t you ever told me?” Althea asked quietly._

_He turned to her, brown eyes both warm and sad. “You have enough to deal with.  Your own expectations and pressure.  You don’t need my issues and problems adding to that weight.”_

_“Well, I. . . I’ve always found that you make all of them go away,” she said softly, holding his gaze. “You’re the only one who sees me, who makes me feel like I’m not alone.”_

_Darron’s eyes filled with emotion, and he took a couple of steps closer to her. “You’re not alone, Althea.”_

_Althea’s heart soared. “Say that again.”_

_“You’re not alone.”_

_“No.” She felt herself blushing, but if she was completely honest with herself, she had felt her feelings change for a while now.  And hearing him say. . . “Where you said my name.”_

_Darron smiled again, closing the distance between them.  He lifted a hand to her face, gently tracing her jaw. “Althea,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead. “Althea.” Her cheek.  “Althea.” One eyelid, then the other._

_He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, he said it one more time as he gently cupped her face. “Althea.”_

_And when his lips met hers softly, longingly, tenderly, Althea’s heart flew free, far away from the gilded cage of the Circle._

*

Althea paused, leaving an uncertain silence hanging in the air.

“The First Enchanter’s daughter was quite the rebel,” Cullen remarked, no hint of humor or irony in his voice.

“The First Enchanter’s daughter wanted to be free,” Althea replied without hesitation.  She seemed startled by her own response. “I’m sorry.  I know that I shouldn’t regret–”

“Don’t,” Cullen said, his eyes suddenly intense.  He studied her face for a long moment. “I know what you’re doing, and don’t.  Don’t apologize for wishing your life had been different.”

Althea smiled sadly. “I don’t apologize for that.  I apologize to my younger self,” she said. “I apologize because I was blind and didn’t know any better.”

“Darron offered you freedom,” Cullen guessed.

“He offered me freedom,” Althea confirmed. “He would always talk about running away together, escaping the Circle, living a quiet life together in freedom.  One day he told me that he actually had it all figured out.  He told me to leave everything in my room and meet him in one of the unused parlors that night.” Her face tensed as she fought the rising tears. “What happened in that parlor is why I apologize to the girl I was then.”

*

_Freedom, freedom, freedom_

_The word thrummed in Althea’s ears and in her heart as she made her way through the corridor in the midnight darkness.  Darron had slipped a note to her earlier telling her to meet him in one of the many parlors that went unused, and from there they would slip away and disappear into the big, bright, free world._

_She came to the door, raised a hand, and gave four knocks, just like he had said.  The door opened, and she made out the outline of a large armchair silhouetted by a fire blazing in the hearth._

_“Hello, love,” she heard a voice say from the armchair._

_That was when they grabbed her._

_Someone seized Althea’s wrists and yanked her arms behind her back.  She tried to scream, but a hand clapped over her mouth.  She kicked her legs wildly, flailing as much as she could as they tried to grab her legs.  She bit the hand and heard a sharp hiss before a heavy slap hit her cheek._

_Then she heard the hiss of something slicing the air –_

_Just before it sliced into her back._

_Althea screamed in pain.  The whip came down again.  And again.  And again –_

_She felt the blood dripping in rivers down her back, mirroring the tears that were streaming down her face.  However many of them there were, they had her kneeling on the ground, gripping her arms tightly.  Her robe was torn, leaving one of her shoulders exposed._

_“Thank you, gentlemen,” said the figure in the armchair as it rose.  It turned slowly. . ._

_Revealing itself to be Darron._

_“Darron?” Althea asked, her voice broken by sobs. “Darron, what are you doing?  Tell them to let me go!”_

_“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Darron said, strolling leisurely toward her. “You see, you’re a bit of a problem when it comes to breaking Circle rules. . . but you’re the kind of problem that my employer would just love to have.”_

_“What do you mean?” Althea asked again, the world seeming to fracture slowly around her. “Who is your – employer?  What do you want from me?”_

_Darron’s eyes flashed as he turned and made his way back to the fire. “As the daughter of the First Enchanter, you are indeed destined for great things.  However. . .” He picked something up, some kind of metal rod. “. . . Samson believes that we can alter that destiny for our own ends.”_

_“Samson?” Althea repeated dumbly.  The name meant nothing to her._

_“But first, he’s asked me to get a little experiment started for him.” Darron made his way back to her and raised the metal rod._

_At the end of the rod was a Sunburst._

_Althea gasped._

_The Brand of Tranquility._

_Darron was about to make her Tranquil._

_“N-no. . .Darron – Darron, please –” Althea’s voice sounded distant to her as that Brand glowed a fiery red.  She tried to thrash around again, but the hands at her shoulders held her down. “Darron!”_

_There was no sign of the Darron she thought she knew.  The Darron she thought she loved._

_His red eyes were full of malice, as he stalked closer, a smirk on his face –_

_Red eyes?_

_Had they always been. . ._

_“Darron!”_

_Weren’t they brown?_

_“Darron, please –”_

_Had she really been so blind?_

_The Brand was inches away from her forehead, so close that she could feel its heat.  She thrashed again and again, finally twisting her body and yanking an arm free –_

_Sending her upper back right into the Brand._

_Althea shrieked in pain.  She smelled burning flesh,_ her _burning flesh, and gagged as her arm was wrenched back into the vice-like grip._

_She looked up.  The Brand was right there._

_She was going to lose her magic, lose everything that made her who she was –_

_The Sunburst touched her forehead._

_“NO!” The unearthly scream ripped out of Althea’s throat._

_And the room exploded in blue flame._

*

“Something inside of me just _shoved_ the Brand away,” Althea said quietly. “But it touched me.  It touched my forehead.  But my magic. . . I can’t remember what happened.  But something saved me.”

Cullen was very still, processing all that she had just told him – and trying not to get up and punch a tree in his anger. “What of your. . . attackers?”

“That blue fire killed them.  It didn’t burn them up – I don’t know how – because when I came to, I recognized all of them.  They were all mage classmates of mine; Darron was the only templar there.  No one ever knew what happened, not even my own mother.  They called it an ‘unfortunate freak accident,’ cleaned up the bodies, and that was that.” She stood up suddenly and paced a few steps. “So there you have it: the Herald of Andraste, a stupid little mage girl who fell in love with a templar who turned around and tried to make her Tranquil.  A terrible, humiliating story for Varric to write someday.”

After a short pause, Cullen heard quiet sniffling.  Then –

With a jerk of her arm, Althea sent daggers of ice hurtling into a nearby tree and shouted, “What a _stupid_ girl I was!” She seemed to remember that Cullen was there, and she looked back at him, her eyes fuzzy.  She turned away from him again, looking down at her hands. “Cullen, I – I understand if. . . if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Cullen stood up. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Althea.” She remained turned the other way.  He tried again. “Althea, _look at me._ ”

Surprised by his tone, she slowly turned to face him.

“You knew who I was before you set foot in Thedas,” he said quietly. “You knew the things I had done, the things I had – stood by and let happen.” He clenched and unclenched his hands, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. “And yet you called me ‘friend.’  I would be the worst hypocrite in Thedas if _I_ turned away from _you_ because of your past.”

Cullen watched as the sobs she had been holding in for hours finally broke free.  She fell to her knees, her tears wracking her body. 

Solas was right – she had been through a _lot_ more than they had thought.

\----------

Althea had lived with it for years.  Suffering alone in silence behind a carefully constructed mask of sapphire and ice.  The sobs wracked through her body, tears completely obscuring her vision. 

In the space between her slowing tears, the tips of boots entered her field of vision.  She heard a soft rustling before something was gently laid around her shoulders.  Fur.

Cullen’s cloak.

She lifted her head and found herself looking into Cullen’s face as he knelt in front of her.  It had grown familiar over the past few months: sun-kissed skin from days of training, yellow-gold stubble lining his jaw.  The scar on his upper lip.

She found herself focused on his eyes.  Eyes that she was learning to _really_ see, eyes that were starting to piece together the story of who Commander Cullen really was.

But now, their amber depths were not swimming with pity, as she had feared.

Her tears stilled.

It was empathy that looked back at her.

Understanding.

Someone who knew a kind of suffering that was as overwhelming and suffocating as hers, in ways that she did not know.

And someone who might be able to guide her out of that darkness.

Cullen rose and extended a hand to help her to her feet.  He studied her for a moment longer before he spoke.

“Althea Trevelyan, I am proud to be your friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, and I return from the chaos of academia with answers! This is the longest chapter I've written so far, but now you know Althea's story; there was no good place to turn this kind of serious talk into two chapters.  
> Thanks for your patience, your comments, your kudos, and your reading!  
> ~ Bellexandra


	13. A Red Future

“Well, this is interesting.”

For once, Althea’s voice failed her as she stared at the lifeless bodies of three red templar guards, now submerged in the thigh-deep water of what seemed to be a dungeon cell.

The last thing she remembered was Alexius throwing some kind of amulet, a flash of light, then darkness – before regaining consciousness here.

Wherever _here_ was.

“Where – where are we?” Althea asked, looking around the cell.

Dorian had one arm across his chest, the other idly stroking his chin as he thought. “Perhaps, my dear Lady Herald, that is not the right question to ask,” he mused, dark eyes lighting up as he put the pieces together. “We are still in Redcliffe Castle, from the looks of these cells. But _when_ we are, well. . .”

Althea’s blood froze. “When?” she repeated.

Dorian met her stare, the slightest note of incredulity in his smooth voice. “Looks like Alexius figured out a way to make his experiment successful,” he said. “The distortion of time itself.”

Althea’s head swam. _First another world, now time-travel. . ._ She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. “So. . . have we gone backward or forward in time?”

He raised his eyebrows with a grim smile. “That, my dear, is something we’re going to have to find out as we go.”

* * *

It was hideous.

Alexius’s portal had dumped them in the lower dungeons of the castle. Water dripped from the ceilings, and rats scuttled in dark corners. But the worst thing. . .

The worst thing was the red.

Red lyrium was _everywhere_.

“Lady Trevelyan?”

A familiar voice stopped Althea and Dorian in their tracks. Althea crept closer to a cell –

“Varric?”

It was indeed Varric. But his eyes glowed a strange red, and his skin had a sick, unearthly green tint to it. He was surrounded by jagged columns of raw red lyrium. His condition, Althea noted with a lurch, was likely due to red lyrium exposure.

With a quick combination of ice and fire, Althea broke the lock on his cell door. “Boy, am I glad to see you,” Varric said, his usual smile lighting up his face. It disappeared as quickly as it came. “Where have you been?”

“What do you mean, where have I been?” Althea asked, her heart pounding. As if to steady her, Dorian put a hand on her arm.

Varric looked between the two of them. “We thought you two died after that little display in Alexius’s throne room. And once it was clear you weren’t coming back –”

“Boss!”

Another voice cut Varric off. Dorian led the two of them down the corridor to another cell, where the Iron Bull was locked inside.

Without hesitation, Dorian repeated Althea’s action of freezing, then detonating the lock on his cell door.

Bull had the same sickly color and strange eyes that Varric now did, but his horns. . .

Althea fought to keep her stomach settled.

Red lyrium was _growing_ on his horns.

Bull seemed to know what she was looking at. His lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, I know,” he said, “red’s not really my color.”

“I hope it never is,” Dorian replied, his voice tight.

“Bull,” Althea began slowly, “how long is it since you’ve seen us?”

Iron Bull’s gaze flickered between her and Dorian, all humor gone from his expression. “About a year,” he answered.

A year.

_A year._

“All this happened in the span of one year?” Dorian asked incredulously, voicing Althea’s thoughts for her.

Bull nodded grimly. He opened his mouth to speak when another voice came from further down the corridor.

“The Breach has all but swallowed the sky, demons prowl the earth, the Elder One got his victory, and the world is ending.”

Varric led the group to a cell at the end of the hall, where Cassandra sat slumped against the wall, half the space of her cell taken up by a thick column of red lyrium. The same reddish glow to her eyes, the same sick complexion.

“All this happened in a _year?_ ” Althea asked as she detonated the lock, echoing Dorian’s earlier question.

Cassandra stepped out of her cell, rolling her shoulders and neck. “The moment you vanished, Alexius and the Elder One took over. The red lyrium, the red templars, the demons, it was all their doing.”

“Where is he?” Dorian’s voice was lethally quiet.

“My guess is holed up in his throne room,” Varric said. “He probably knows you’re here.”

Althea tried to find her resolve again, even as her heart thumped harder. “So we need to –”

“Kick down the doors and kick that bastard’s ass,” Iron Bull growled, already pulling an axe off the wall.

* * *

Dorian knew the castle better than she did, so Althea let him take the lead. The door to Alexius’s throne room required some red lyrium shards to open (which had drawn a string of curses from Bull), and they only needed one more.

But they were running out of rooms to try.

They came to a thick wooden door with bars on it. “Worth a shot,” Varric shrugged. Althea and Dorian blasted the door with ice and fire, and it collapsed without resistance.

The door led to what appeared to be another set of cells, red lyrium growing just as it did in the lower dungeons.

Dorian frowned. “This is new, Alexius,” he muttered.

“Fan out, pick a cell, and look for that last shard,” Althea said. She moved down the row of cells quickly, scanning them for a piece similar to the four they already had. She came to the cell at the end of the corridor. She looked inside –

And stopped in her tracks.

Two jagged columns of red lyrium rose out of the grown and had fused together.

At the site of their fusion, encased in the red lyrium, was a body.

As Althea made herself get a closer look, her knees gave out underneath her.

She recognized a fur cloak.

A scar on an upper lip.

Amber eyes, now tinged red.

A sob escaped her throat before she knew it was there.

_Cullen._

He was dead, he had to be, but his eyes were wide open – and had been when he died. He wore an expression of pure terror and fear, so unlike the Cullen she was just beginning to know.

And as the tears ran hotly down her face, Althea knew that the look on his face would haunt her for a long, _long_ time.

She hadn’t noticed the rest of her companions gather around her until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“If I had been here –” she began.

“You’re going to be,” Varric promised. “We’ll make sure of it.”

The emotion in his voice stirred something in her heart.

She was not alone in Thedas. She _did_ have friends here, people who cared about her.

And she would fight anyone who dared to hurt them.

She would fight them all.

Rage burned through her veins as she turned to see that Bull held the fifth lyrium shard in his massive hand.

And she’d start with Alexius.

* * *

Althea’s chest heaved as she glared at Alexius, who stood in exactly the same place he was when she had defeated him.

 _In the future_ , she reminded herself with a hard swallow. She motioned for Inquisition guards to take him into custody.

She watched him be dragged from the throne room as Dorian came up beside her.

“Can we agree right now to never do that again?” he grumbled, the lightness back in his voice.

“Considering neither of us planned to do it at all,” Althea replied with a half-smile, “I absolutely agree.”

There was a pause, then Dorian moved to stand in front of her. “Are you okay?” he asked, the amusement in his eyes replaced by concern as he searched her face. “The Commander’s. . . situation really seemed to shake you.”

It had. More than Althea wanted to admit. She couldn’t care that much for someone she was only just starting to know, someone who had put aside his fear of mages and _agreed_ with her and helped her make this alliance possible --

Could she?

No.

She had to do everything in her power to prevent that future from happening. To prevent that future from happening to Cullen.

From this moment on, Althea decided, she would throw herself mind, body, and soul into the Inquisition and its goals.

And she would rebuild the walls of ice around her heart.

The only thing that mattered was saving this world.

“Althea?” Dorian’s voice yanked her from her thoughts. She met his gaze.

“In fact, Dorian, I’ve never been better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We're back, with a brief trip to In Hushed Whispers and Redcliffe! :)  
> I am so sorry for the long absence! I graduated from college in May, went to the UK for a week, then went to Florida for MegaCon, and life has been crazy - but in the best way!  
> I'm working on some other writing projects, but I promise that I will try to continue Althea and Cullen's story as often as I can!  
> Thank you for your continued reading and kudos!  
> ~ Bellexandra


	14. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Weeks.

It had been weeks now since Althea and Dorian stopped Alexius, reappearing in Redcliffe’s throne room in a blinding flash of light.  Cullen saw it with his own eyes.  He had also seen his old friend Alistair, now the King of Ferelden, exile the mages –

To whom Althea had extended a full alliance, and with whom she had returned to Haven.

It had been weeks since Cullen had read her report for the first time.

The future she had seen sounded like one of his worst nightmares.

The Breach swallowing the sky, demons in every corner of Thedas, red lyrium growing _everywhere_ , even being harvested from _people_.

But what troubled him most of all was the fact that it had been weeks since he and Althea had had a conversation that was not strictly business.

She only saw him at war table meetings and only sought him out if she had a request.  There was nothing of the broken, lonely woman he had comforted in Redcliffe, no sign of the woman who sang light into her hands.  No sign of the woman he had called his friend.

Her sapphire eyes seemed to have frosted over, the mantle and mask of “Andraste’s Herald” up at all times.

It wasn’t _all_ bad, Cullen thought as he surveyed his group of trainees.  In fact, in a matter of weeks, Althea had closed all of the rifts in the Hinterlands and the Storm Coast, secured mounts from Master Dennet, cleared out the apostates and red templar encampments, and secured an alliance with the mages to close the Breach, a feat that was set to be attempted in a couple of days.

At that moment, Cullen saw Althea making her way back to the Haven gates, a basket of elfroot stalks tucked under her arm.  As she walked, her eyes scanned over the training grounds – before meeting Cullen’s gaze.  She held it for a moment, nodded once, and continued on her way.

He could have sworn something finally flickered in her hardened gaze, a brief glimpse of the woman he thought he knew. _This isn’t the Althea Trevelyan I know,_ he thought as he watched her walk away. _Whoever you are, come back. Please._

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

\----------

Weeks.

It had been weeks since she and Dorian had returned to Redcliffe from a year into the future.  Weeks since she had secured the alliance of the mages, who were basically being exiled from Redcliffe anyway.

It had been weeks since she had seen Cullen’s lifeless body, encased in red lyrium.

And it had also been weeks now that Althea was not speaking to Cullen beyond what was absolutely necessary.  She was making certain of that.

She had actually been incredibly productive since Redcliffe.  She had secured mounts for the soldiers and a few new agents for Leliana, and all of the rifts in the Storm Coast and the Hinterlands were closed.  Cassandra had even _complimented_ her on her success.

It would just be so much easier if the Commander stopped looking at her with such plain confusion and hurt.

Maker, that awful look. . .

Althea pulled up a stalk of elfroot with more force than necessary, ripping some of the leaves off in the process. “Shit,” she muttered, stomping the now-worthless leaves into the snow and using a small ice spell to freeze them over.  She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead as she glanced at her basket.  It would probably overflow if she crammed any more elfroot in, so she decided to call it quits for herb-gathering today.

Tucking the basket under her arm, she began the walk back to Haven.

The now-familiar pang of guilt settled into her stomach as she neared the training grounds – and saw that it was Cullen and his rotation of soldiers.

She shot a glance up to the sky, hoping the Maker saw her glaring up at him.

Sticking close to the walls, she planned to sneak through the gates without being seen.

Naturally, Cullen saw her.

Ever since she told him about Darron, he looked at her differently.  Even now, with her heart firmly re-encased in ice, he _saw_ her.

He always saw her.

His amber gaze locked onto hers across the training grounds.

Althea held his gaze, gave him a short nod, and continued on her way, the guilt in her stomach growing.

Because across the training ground, above the clashing of swords and the wooden _thwacks_ of shields, she had heard his voice, loud and clear as though he were standing right behind her.

_This isn’t the Althea Trevelyan I know._

_Whoever you are, please come back._

_Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers! I'm back and haven't forgotten about Cullen and Althea! This chapter is short, I know, but it's important to check in with the two of them before they attempt to seal the breach (that's right, In Your Heart Shall Burn is up next!). They've got some things to work out, don't they? ^.-  
> ~ Bellexandra


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